Daddy's Little Girl
by Moondancing Millie
Summary: Bad girl Suze Simon is living in Carmel after her parents' sticky divorce 15 years ago. She's made the wrong type of friends and has the wrong kind of reputation ... but musician turned med student Jesse De Silva is hoping he can fix her. [SJ]
1. Pebble Beach Resort

**A/N I like this idea, but I'm not sure how it will be received. I'm desperate for a well-liked Mediator fic! If I get enough postitive reviews then I'll continue and make time for this fic, because I like it, but if the response is low, I'll leave it for when I have time and less WIPs to work with!**

**Please read and review!**

**I decided to expand on the Suze we saw pre-Jesse. The one-time smoker, slightly rebellious one. She looked like fun.**

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**Daddy's' Little Girl**

**Chapter One**

It was time to dump Paul Slater.

I saw Meghan's face fall before I'd even entered the room. She knew as well as I did that it was time, but she wasn't as happy to see him go.

"Not Paul!" she cried, as I sat beside her on my bed, and handed her a Bacardi Breezer. "He was perfect for you. He's rich, handsome-"

"Arrogant, self-centred," I continued, and Meghan frowned, taking a big gulp of her rum. She sighed, and ran a hand through her long, dark hair.

"Bye-bye, Perfect Paul," she said, gloomily. "Another one bites the dust."

I said nothing, but instead fixed my gaze on the beach only yards away from my bedroom window. Meghan was always blissfully oblivious to the darker side of relationships, she always had been. In a practically marital relationship with her boyfriend-since-tenth-grade, Kenny, her date nights consisted of soppy rom-coms in front of the TV, and feeding each other take-away pizza. Personally, it grossed me out, seeing the sickly pair together.

"Anything from your Dad this birthday?" she asked, and I noticed her bottle was already half-empty. There's my girl.

"No," I replied, without a hint of sadness. I had left my Dad back in New York, 15 years ago. My mom moved us out of the state and right over to the other side of America. Here in California, where I had been since the age of 3, I was happy, and unaware of my father's current affairs. I didn't even know if he was alive, and even more, I didn't care. If my Mom had thought we could live without him, I didn't give a damn.

"Oh well," said Meghan, and she drained her Bacardi. "Happy 18th, Suzy." She leant over sleepily and gave me a big hug, before wandering out into the kitchen to find herself another alcoholic beverage, no doubt. "Jeez, Suze, this whole house reeks of cigarette smoke. I thought you'd quit!"

I shrugged my shoulders, though I knew she couldn't see me. I was edgy. It had been my 18th birthday, and I needed a way to relax. It wasn't like my Mom was around to talk to, and Meghan had been at work. It was just me, and the hidden packet of smokes in the cookie jar, all alone. It doesn't take a whole lot of imagination to figure out what happened next.

I too emptied my Bacardi Breezer, just in time for Meg to bring in another two. She was here for the night, for a slumber party, like we had at the beginning of my teen years. It was like marking the end of the era. With booze. Lots and lots of booze.

"So, you haven't actually dumped Paul yet?" she questioned, and she sat – well, more like drunkenly fell, and landed alright – on the floor, crossed-legged in front of me. "You've just planned this?"

"Yup," I said, beginning my third – no wait, was it my fourth? – drink of the night, a strawberry Schnapps. "I figured I'd do it tomorrow. He's planning on taking me out for my birthday."

"You're going to dump Paul Slater, at the Pebble Beach Golf Club," replied Meghan, looking at me in awe. "Wow. Suze Simon, you are such a hard-ass." I matched her stare, and she looked away, taking a sip of her light beer. "Wait, you're going to do it after he's giving you your present, though, right?"

"Of course!" I answered, and the _duh _went unmentioned. "I'm hoping its something with diamonds."

"It will be," Meghan assured me. "I mean, come on. This is Paul Slater we're talking about."

* * *

"Hey, gorgeous." Paul greeted me warmly, with a deep kiss on the lips. I had been waiting on the porch, in my new yellow sundress that Mom had left on my bed yesterday morning – my birthday present. I wasn't normally one for yellow, but it was a perfect contrast against my skin. 

"Hey, Paul," I replied casually, as he took my arm and led me down the steps and down the driveway to his gleaming Mercedes. It sparkled in the hot CA sun, and the metal was hot as I pulled the passenger seat door open.

"I had it cleaned, just for this occasion," he told me, proudly, and I ignored the guilty lurch in my stomach. I wasn't using Paul for my birthday present, I told myself. I was just waiting for the opportune moment.

We drove swiftly across the coast, the cool zephyr whizzing through my hair as we sped past the sea. The Pebble Beach Golf Club was in one of the most breath-taking locations. It was one of Paul's favourite date-spots, I'd learnt earlier on in our relationship, back in January. It was now June. Five months was almost a record for me.

Paul stopped the car outside the resort, expertly moving his hands to the handbrake and the gear-stick, before reaching inside his aristocratic Chanel suit and pulling out a neat, shop-wrapped parcel. It was small, no bigger than the palm of my hand, and the paper tore away to reveal a velvety box. Jewellery!

I snapped open the box to see a small, white-gold band, just small enough to fit around my ring finger. And it the centre, even more dazzling than the surface of Paul's car, was a diamond. All of a sudden, the wind went from out of my sails. Because I wasn't going to be able to keep this piece of jewellery. It was an engagement ring.

"Before you say anything," Paul said, hurriedly, obviously reading my expression of unease. "I just want to say that, although we've only been together 5 months – and that we're young, I know that – you're amazing, Suze. You're beautiful, and you're quick-witted, and you make me laugh…"

He trailed off, looking at me pleadingly. But it still didn't make it any harder to snap shut the box and hand it back to him, which I promptly did. "I'm sorry, Paul," I said, as he took it with a crushed look. "I just…." Now was the time to break up with him. "I just…." Do it Suze, do it! "Wait. What are these?"

I lifted up, on my pinkie finger, something that had caught my eye during my last muttering of "I just…". It was red, and lacy, or rather, they were, and with black trim, and they were tucked into the side pocket of the passenger door. I dangled them in front of his face, which was slowly turning red, to match the panties. He gulped.

"They're – they're not yours?" he asked, though I knew he knew the answer already. I dropped them in his lap. I was slowly regretting giving Paul back the box. It would have been handy to throw at his face.

"No," I snapped, and I got out of the car in a hurry, slamming the door behind me. "I do not wear a piece of string, Slater." Paul gulped. "How long?" I asked him. "How long have you been sleeping with somebody else behind my back?"

"Suze, I can explain-"

"I don't want the gory details," I snarled. "Just tell me: how long?"

"A…. a while," he admitted, and I nearly exploded.

"I'm leaving," I declared, and I began to stomp away as fast as my Manolo Blahniks would carry me. I travelled an impressive distance by the time Paul caught up with me, and he grabbed at my arm, desperately. I retaliated by dealing him a sharp slap that turned his cheek even redder.

"Leave me alone," I ordered, and he remained stationary as I walked away again, now feeling like I could spectacularly combust any second. I made it into the lobby, and spoke calmly to the maitre d'. "Do you have a payphone?"

"It's out of order," he told me, and he scuttled away to deal with a particularly argumentative customer." I exhaled, heavily, trying to control my now fiery emotions. I turned around to see a jostling gang of guys about my age enter the lobby and stand behind me. I waved my hand, surrendering.

"I'm not waiting," I said to them, and they moved past me. "I just want a stupid pay-phone that isn't out of order. Is that too much to ask?"

Most of the guys ignored me, but one in particular looked at me concernedly. I recognised him as Jesse, and the guys around him as his band, Dirty Bunch. They had a sucky name, but they played some good music. Word was Jesse was planning to go to medical school, and he was in the band doing weddings and bar mitzvahs until he had enough money to go. It was a sweet story, really, but I didn't really care. He had hung out with the Kelly Prescotts and the Debbie Mancusos back in high school, and it was always _us_ against _them _–_ them _being the Jesses and the Kellys, _us _being Meghan and me. Jesse had never said a mean word to me throughout high school, but even after graduation I was still a little cautious.

"You need a ride?" Jesse asked me, to my surprise. I narrowed my eyes at him, not quite believing his sincerity.

"What's the catch?" I said, carefully.

Jesse looked taken aback. "No catch," he promised me. "Just a ride home. Maybe a gas-stop along the way." He looked behind him to confirm with his band members, who nodded, bored. "We're just here to pick up Willem – he's our drummer, he's got a summer job here as a lifeguard – and then we can go."

"OK," I replied, softening. "Thanks, Jesse." He looked astonished.

"How do you know my name?" he enquired. See, didn't I tell you? Different social circles: jocks versus burnouts. I rolled my eyes.

"Did you think I'd accept a ride off a total stranger?" I challenged. "We went to school together. We just graduated?"

"Class of 2007…" he muttered, and I nodded.

"Different social circles," I told him, out loud. He returned my nod. A tall, gangling boy with blonde curly hair appeared at Jesse's side, looking exhausted but relieved.

"Shift's over," he grunted, and I followed Dirty Bunch outside. I was greeted by an off-white (and grimy) van, with a dodgy paint-job reading "Dirty Bunch – available for all occasions" and a telephone number.

"Hop in, stranger," Jesse said in my ear, and I jumped. I climbed in after Willem, disgusted at the sweaty leather seats. I said nothing and sat in silence, until the van screeched to a halt, somewhere other than Pine Crest Road.

"Gas-stop," Jesse explained, turning around from the passenger seat.

"Yeah, so we're gonna need your share of the gas money," joked Willem, and I obviously looked horrified, as the rest of the guys laughed.

"He's kidding," Jesse assured me, and I sank in my seat, repulsed by the jeers being thrown my way. "Hey," he told them. "Give her a break. She's not used to you jerks like I am."

"Anybody want anything from the shop?" asked Jake, the driver, fishing for dollars in his pocket.

"Beer," grunted Willem.

"Diet Pepsi?" Jesse offered me. I shook my head. "M&Ms?" I asked.

"What flavour?" questioned Jake, as he shook off the dollar I was handing him.

"Peanut," I told him, and looked sheepishly at my unwanted dollar. "And thanks."

Jesse leapt out of the car and sorted out the gas for the van, whilst I made as much minimal chatter as I could with the remaining members of Dirty Bunch – Adam, Willem, and Dean. Adam had dreads so long I couldn't see his mouth, which made conversation pretty much impossible – something I was grateful for; and Dean was reaching inside his leather jacket for a packet of cigarettes. I looked at the cardboard, hungrily.

"Dude, those things wreck your vocal chords," argued Willem, and Dean shrugged, the way I had last night when Meghan had challenged me.

"God job I play keyboard and don't do the singing," he said, as Jesse jumped back into the vehicle, and sniffed in disgust as blue plumes of cigarette smoke flew to the front of the van.

"You couldn't wait till we got back home and you could smoke outside?" he demanded, angrily. "You know I hate smoking." I gulped. Dean offered me a cigarette, politely, ignoring Jesse's outburst.

"I don't smoke," I lied, though I ached desperately for one. I didn't know why I felt the need to impress Jesse – I could get plenty of other guys who smoked too, my reputation during school had made sure of that.

Jake got back into the van and handed me my M&Ms – almost a reserve for nicotine. I nodded in thanks, and teased open the packet, offering them round. Dean declined, happily sucking his cigarette, though Willem and Adam took a handful each. Jesse took a few for Jake, but left me with half the packet for myself. I chewed, pondering about the new "friends" I had made.

"So, where do you live?" Jesse asked, keeping his eyes on me as Jake stepped on the accelerator.

"Pine Crest Road," I answered, and Jesse nodded. "Nice estate," he said. "My grandmother used to live there."

We soon passed houses I recognised, and I undid my seatbelt as I saw my house come into view. "Here," I told Jake, and he braked. Willem let me past him and I hopped out of the van, met by Jesse, who was smiling his dazzling smile. I wondered how many groupies this guy had. He stuck out his hand.

"Nice to… meet you," he said, as I touched his palm reluctantly. "I'm sorry; I don't know your name."

"Suze," I replied.

"Short for…" began Jesse, and I could see him thinking. "Susan?"

"Susannah," I corrected him. "As in, 'Don't you Cry for Me'?" Jesse grinned.

"I know the song," he answered. "It was nice to meet you, Susannah." I cringed at the use of my full name. "I have a feeling we'll be meeting again soon."

I laughed, humourlessly. "Oh, I don't think so," I said, and Jesse shrugged.

"Suit yourself," he said, and he leapt back into the van. With a wink through the window to me, Jesse then said something to Jake, and the van drove away with a loud _vroom. _


	2. Dirty Bunch at Lace

**A/N Thanks to the nine people who reviewed Chapter One. Please, if you read, then review. It means a lot to me and it encourages me to write more. If you enjoy the story, or have any suggestions, let me know. Please.**

**A note that I forgot to add last chapter is that this fic was inspired by Sarah Dessen's This Lullaby. Notice I said "inspired" and not "based". It will be different. Please read and review.**

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**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Two**

"Men are pigs," my mother told me, as together, along with Meghan, we dug our spoons into our ice-cream. This statement would normally hold some feeling, except my mom's brand-new bestseller just happens to be named "_Men Are Pigs._" I guess an award-winning journalist-turned-author like my mom is just too busy to come up with several different inspirational exclamations.

"Not all of them," argued Meghan, sucking her spoon, thoughtfully, and my mom poked her angrily. Meghan pouted. "I love Kenny."

"I know you do, sweetheart," Mom retorted, gently patting her shoulder, whilst mouthing the words "don't listen" to me. I rolled my eyes. Did everybody suddenly forget I was going to break up with Paul anyway? My decision only to tell them about Paul and not Jesse and the rest of Dirty Bunch was slowly beginning to seem like the right one.

"Guys," I said, loudly. "I do not need your sympathy. I'm already in a new relationship." This proclamation caused both my Mom and Meghan to look up, each with a "well-this-is-news-to-me" looks on their faces. I picked up the ice-cream carton and lifted it high in the air. "Uh-huh," I continued. "With two, gorgeous, beautiful men, and their names are Ben and Jerry." Meghan snorted, causing her ice-cream to slop comically off the spoon and land with a pffton the kitchen counter. I saw my obsessive-compulsive mother flinch, but thankfully, she said nothing.

"Well, hon, as long as you're happy," my mom replied, and she got off her stool, expensive high heels clacking on the marble floor. She turned to Meghan. "Practise safe sex with Timmy-"

"Kenny," Meghan corrected, flushing crimson.

"Be careful," Mom proceeded, and she blew a kiss to me. "Alcohol's in the mini-fridge."

She clacked away, and Meg swallowed her ice-cream with a gulp. "I swear I am never ever going to get your mom. I mean, she's all 'be safe – ooh, alcohol.' What kind of mom does that?"

"Mine," I replied, throwing my dirty spoon in the sink and the empty ice-cream carton in the trash. "I guess being a Lonely Heart for fifteen years drives you insane."

"Still a no-go on the proposal front with Andy?" asked Meghan, in regards to my would-be stepfather, if ever he got his ass in gear. I shook my head, and Megan bit her lip. "Just please don't end like her, whatever you do. The inherited fixated cleanliness I can deal with, but the split personality is sending you on the streets."

Meghan and I have plans to share an apartment this year. After the initial wave of first-term fees for college, we're going to go searching for our chick pad. The upside to that is we can have as much booze as we want around the place. The downside is I have to smoke outdoors, as Meg is not tolerating the fumes.

"It'll get in the curtains," she explained.

After my mother had pointed it out, I found the alcohol easily. I handed Meghan another Alco-pop, and she pulled a face. "Ugh," she said. "I'm totally fed-up of this manufactured crap. Let's go down to Lace tonight, and drink some real alcohol."

Lace is this town's hot-spot. If something happens in the sleepy town of Carmel-by-the-Sea, it happens at Lace. It's strictly over twenty-ones, but Meg and I have been sneaking in since sophomore year. We're in cahoots with the bouncer, Ned. And since we're "twenty-one" for the third year running, we can get completely wasted on the cocktails they serve.

"OK," I said, shrugging, taking back the drink. "We'll go down with the gang, yeah?"

Meghan smiled, cheering up considerably. "Yeah!" she replied. "Some indie band is playing tonight. Dirty Bunch, something like that? The lead singer is pretty cute… Jessup?"

"Jesse," I corrected, without thinking. Meghan looked at me, interestedly.

"You know him?" she asked, and I bit my lip nervously.

"Yeah…" I tried to answer casually. "He was in my… Social Studies class this year."

"Huh." Megan looked thoughtful, but dropped it with a "whatever". She was right, he was cute, but somebody from Dirty Bunch – I'd recognised a few others from school, too – must have filled him in on my reputation by now, and he wasn't going to be interested. I was hoping to possibly avoid Jesse forever. He hadn't paid me any attention in high school, he didn't need to now. But there was no way I was going to escape it.

We called up the gang – namely Cee-Cee, Alyssa and Fliss – together we made up the Burnouts in school, even though neither Meg nor Cee-Cee smoked. Meg borrowed my mascara, just in case Kenny was about, and we climbed into my brand-new Golf.

"Spit out the gum," I ordered Meg, and she emitted the gum into the palm of her hand before throwing it onto the driveway, grumbling.

"God," she said. "It's just gum. It's not like I'm going to drop it onto the carpeted floor and stomp it in." I glared at her.

"O.K, when you spend all your babysitting money plus all your savings on your brand-new car, I'll bring greasy confectionery into it, and see how you'll deal then."

"I'll deal just fine," retorted Meghan. "I'm not some kind of cleanliness-obsessed freak!"

"Suit yourself," I replied, and found to my horror that I had just repeated Jesse's words from last night. I shook my head, and started the ignition. It was a coincidence, I'm sure.

* * *

"Perfect Paul is no more?" asked Alyssa, with a pout. "But he was so…. perfect!" 

"He was cheating on Suze," pointed out Cee-Cee. "How is that perfect?"

"His abs do it for me," replied Alyssa, looking dreamy as she drew on her cigarette. Cee-Cee gave her a very sour look. "But yes, he was very wrong, very wrong."

"Why were you going to dump him in the first place, though?" questioned Fliss, who very rarely took part in conversation. The most beautiful of us all, with her candyfloss curls and her rosebud lips, Fliss was very usually being chatted up whenever we ventured to Lace. "I mean, before you found out he was cheating behind your back?"

"I bet he ate in her car," offered Meghan, once again chewing some gum, and this answer received a few nods of approval. I rolled my eyes. "Either that, or he smoked in it. It had to be something to do with her car."

"Either that, or he left his dirty underwear in her immaculate bedroom," added Alyssa, who was often speechless at the sight of my room. I decided to intervene before anymore embarrassing suggestions were flung into the gossiping atmosphere of Lace.

"Listen!" I cried, exasperated, as I saw Dirty Bunch take to the little podium out of the corner of my eye. "Me and Paul just weren't working, O.K? He was too arrogant and thought he could buy the world with his money, and I wanted fewer attachments as I graduated and headed to college in the fall. That's it, end of story."

Meghan opened her mouth to say something… but closed it again after seeing my irritated glare. Meg was my best friend, and had been since kindergarten when we were both outcasts – I still couldn't shift my Brooklyn twang, and Meghan had chicken-pox scar on her cheek that was like a pothole, so we joined together, and everybody left us alone after that. But over the years, we had begun to have our differences. Meghan was free-spirited and in love, and I was uptight and sceptical about romance. Meg liked to gorge on a McDonalds, whilst I kept to a tight diet of salad. I liked guitar riffs; she had a thing for power ballads. She was a virgin – despite her loving relationship with Kenny – and I was… well, not.

"This is a song dedicated to Susannah," said Jesse, into the microphone. "Let's hope she's less doubtful of me after this."

Alyssa and Cee-Cee both turned to me, open-mouthed and envious. I shrugged my shoulders, but they took no notice. "Oh my God, Suze!" cried Alyssa. "You have a song dedicated to you!"

"How do you know it's me?" I asked, still a little suspicious. There was no way Jesse could behave like that after just a ten-minute drive with me, yesterday. "It could be any other Susannah."

"Oh please," Meghan snorted. "How many other doubtful, sceptical, suspicious Susannahs do we know in this town?" She had a point. "Besides, he _was _in your Social Studies class last year."

"He was?" asked Fliss, who was now arm-in-arm with a Zac Efron look-a-like. She had had Social Studies with me, too.

"O.K, O.K." I decided to come clean. "I met him yesterday, after I broke up with Paul, and he gave me a lift home."

"You kept that quiet!" cried Alyssa, and a gaggle of girls on the table next to use shushed her, so we listened intently to the words that Jesse was singing. He looked kinda sexy, with his eyes shut, and his fingers strumming the strings of his guitar.

"I'm like a splinter in her finger…" he said, whilst I noticed Willem sat behind his drum kit, bored. There was no call for a heavy cymbal clash in this ballad. "But I know she's so much more…"

Cee-Cee swooned, which caused Alyssa to choke on her cigarette, and have a loud coughing fit, drowning out Dirty Bunch's echoes of Jesse's words. After a few more glares from the girls next to us, Alyssa swallowed some water, and managed to control it, but not the giggles that erupted next.

"She's like a puzzle I have to figure… I know she's got me raw."

Fliss pulled a face, Zac Efron still hanging off her arm, gazing adoringly at her. "Raw?" she repeated. "Like raw meat?"

"No," said Meghan. "It means he's baring his soul to her." Fliss pouted.

"I still don't get it," she said, and went back to sucking face with Zac.

"That was so romantic," swooned Cee-Cee, and Alyssa nodded in agreement. Jesse slung his guitar off his shoulders, and stepped off the stage for a break. The girls beside us were whispering and giggling like a load of tweens.

"Omigod. If I was this Susannah chick, I would be at his side right now. I wonder if she's not interested. Omigod, what if she's not interested? I bagged him first, alright?"

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "Go," she urged me. "Go to him. He's probably waiting for you."

"No," I replied, instead taking a sip of my cocktail. "He thinks that a song will get me to like him? I've only just broken up with Paul. I so do not need the hassle of boys right now."

Cee-Cee was about to argue, when a head appeared in between hers and Meghan's. I recognised it as Jake's, the driver of the van yesterday. He winked at Cee-Cee, who laughed nervously, and then spoke to me.

"Hey, Suze, you'd better go talk to Jesse."

"Why?" I asked. "So he doesn't get humiliated in front of this audience?"

"No…" Jake replied. "Because if you don't, he's going to get his head kicked in by the rest of us. He practically begged us to sing that song first, and we only agreed because we thought that would win you over."

"Fine," I surrendered, and I put my drink down. "I'll be back in a minute," I said to the guys, who I could tell were going to watch everything that happened… except for Fliss, who was still attached to Zac's mouth.

When I approached Jesse, he greeted with a big smile. He was so sure of himself, I was ready to bet he was expecting me to drool over him and beg him to be my boyfriend. Boy was he in for a surprise.

"Did you like the song?" he asked me, which kind of altered my prepared speech.

"Yes," I admitted, because it had a pretty melody. "It was very sweet. I'm just not interested, I'm sorry."

Jesse grinned. "You thought that song was for you?" he enquired, his tone full of humour. "It could have been for any Susannah I know. How do you it was for you?"

"Because… because Jake told me so!" I cried, a little hysterically. Was this some kind of joke? I did not come over to be embarrassed. I came over here to put the record straight.

"Jake is not me," he replied. "Jake is Jake. He may have just assumed it was you I was singing to." I was ready to boil. He was even more arrogant than I had put him down for!

"Well if that song was about me," I retorted, feeling my blood boil in my veins. "You should just know that I'm not going to be won over by some stupid song. I'm not going to be some idiotic little groupie. I mean, please. I do have some pride."

Jesse continued smiling. "I'm sure you do."

I managed to contain most of my furious roar, and began stomping back to my table, where I was stopped by Willem half-way. "Well done," he said, his smirk almost as irritating as Jesse's. "You've gone and done it now. You're officially a challenge to him."

I ignored this and pushed my way back to the gang, who were trying to pretend like they hadn't been watching. I took my seat, and stirred my cocktail, attempting to cool down. Alyssa couldn't take it anymore.

"Are you trying to tell me you _didn't_ arrange a date with him?" she exclaimed. "Are you kidding me?"

"Of course I didn't arrange a date with him," I replied, firmly. "I mean, hello? Who thinks they can just get off with someone because of a song?"

"Maybe he wasn't trying to get off with you," disputed Meghan, wisely. "Maybe he was just trying to show you how he feels. Maybe it was just instant attraction for him, and he's trying to find out how you feel."

"Whatever," I said, draining my drink but still feeling uncomfortable. "Can we go? I don't want to hear anymore of this crap." Dirty Bunch were just taking to the stage again, to the screams and wolf-whistles of many girls in the audience.

"Fine," said Meghan, reaching for her purse and kissing Kenny on the cheek. "Bye, guys. See you tomorrow." She finished her Sex on the Beach quickly, and set it down on the table, and then took my arm, pulling me away, obviously annoyed.

"God, what's the matter with you?" I asked, noticing her expression was like thunder.

"You're such a bitch sometimes, Suze," she replied, climbing into the passenger side of my car. "Making me leave the fun just because you made a fool of yourself in front of Jesse."

"What?"

"We all watched you," she continued, stating the obvious. "And you totally sounded like the arrogant one. And now you can't handle it, and you want to leave."

"I think you've had too much to drink," I stated, putting the keys in the ignition.

Meghan laughed, mirthlessly. "Oh, please. Look at yourself. Are you even OK to drive?"

"I've had one cocktail," I retorted, which shut her up. We drove home in silence, and I thought over what she had said. Did I tackle the situation with Jesse in the right way? Did I really sound unbelievably arrogant? I pulled up in front of Meghan's house, and she got out of the car without a word. "Bye, Meg," I said, and she nodded wordlessly. I watched her open her front door, and then started the engine again.

Arriving on my driveway, I noticed that the living room lights were still on, and there was faint arguing coming from the house. None of the curtains upstairs were drawn, and there was another car besides my Mom's Porsche in front of the house. I locked my Golf, and fished for my keys. Unlocking the door, I heard the yelling grow louder.

"Mom!" I yelled, worriedly. "Are you O.K?" The lounge grew quiet. I pushed open the door, and saw my mother sat elegantly on the leather sofa in her kimono, and stood in front of the T.V with his hands on his hips was a man I didn't recognise.

He was wearing a parka coat, which was ridiculous, even in the cool fog that rolled in from the bay every morning, paired with jeans. His hair was long and straggly, and his nails were dirty – something I could never abide. His chin was heavily stubbly, and his eyes were bleak and blood-shot. A faint smell of booze – and I knew the scent – was rolling off him.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, rudely, and my mother opened her mouth to speak, but the man got there first.

"Hello, Suzy," he said, kindly. "It's me. Your dad."


	3. Broken Silence

**A/N You guys should be proud of this chapter. It is well over 3000 words. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed - I'm still awed by the amount of reviews. Please keep it up, the reviews make my day. You know how to do it. Just click the little purple box. That's all I'm asking.**

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**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Three**

"My dad?" I repeated. "Are you kidding me?"

"Suzy…" he whispered, making towards me with open arms. "You're so big… I can't believe it."

I backed away, breathing through my nose so I could avoid inhaling the stale smell of alcohol. I felt like suggesting a bath. This guy couldn't be my dad. He couldn't possibly be. I was so clean and so tidy… whereas this guy? This guy was the complete opposite, and it was starting to make me feel nauseous.

"Suze," he said, looking hurt by my dismissal. "Come on, we're family."

My mother pursed her lips. I didn't even count my mother as family, anymore. My family was made up of Meghan and the rest of the gang, even she knew this. That had totally been the wrong thing to say. "I don't think so," I replied, looking at disgust at his mismatched socks and fang earring. "I haven't had a father since I was three years old, back in 1992."

"But it took me so long to find you," the tramp before me argued. His hazel eyes – the only feature I could find that could maybe relate him to me – flashed dangerously.

"When did you start?" I asked, practically spitting out my words. "Last Tuesday?" I was furious that this man had disturbed the calm that was my life. Sure, it had had its speed bumps – most recently the Paul and Jesse situations, but nothing I could handle. I was thrown completely by my "father's" arrival.

"Suze, I…" he trailed off miserably. "Please, I want to talk."

"No," I told him, coldly, and he stepped towards me fiercely. My mother stood between us like a barrier – a very geisha-like barrier, with her short, black, pointed bob and her kimono – and turned me.

"Suze, honey," she said, softly. "Let me talk to your father. Andy's in the kitchen. Could you get him a beer or something?" I nodded, and started towards the kitchen door, before turning around and spitting back at the man who was now turning slowly purple: "I really like Andy. He's like a dad to me."

My mother rolled her eyes at me, though I thought my "father" was going to explode. I had never seen anybody so mad, and that included the time when I had broken all the china in a previous boyfriend's mother's cabinet by accident. I had thought his dad was having a fit or something, but it turned out he was just furious. Needless to say, Brad and I finished quite quickly after that.

I turned around again, and pushed open the frosted-glass door into the kitchen. Andy was sat at the table in a vest and boxers – a sight that no longer fazed me, after it being five years since the first time this event had occurred – reading a newspaper. Once he noticed me, however, he set down the newspaper politely, and bid me good evening.

"Hey, Andy," I replied, and opened the fridge. "Beer?"

"Please," he answered, and I handed him a cool bottle. Our relationship was quite relaxed, as sometimes I think he spends more time at my house than my mother does. He doesn't leave his underwear scattered around the house – a habit my mother is more than guilty of. I'm forever unhooking bras off of doorknobs and dropping them into the laundry basket – nor does he ever hog the remote. He always offers me first choice of Friday night TV. The only flaw I've ever spotted is that he is yet to propose to my mother.

"I hear you met Jake yesterday," Andy said, as I prised the cap off my own bottle of beer, before handing the opener to him. I looked at him in confusion.

"What?" I asked, relishing the cool liquid soothing my throat. The cocktails at Lace may please Meghan, but they tend to irritate my oesophagus. This may be the reason I only drank one tonight.

"Jake," repeated Andy. "Didn't he give you a lift home with all the guys from his band, yesterday?" I almost choked on my next sip of beer. Jake from Dirty Bunch was Jake Ackerman?

"That's your Jake?" I cried, as angry yells from the lounge came ricocheting into the kitchen. Andy nodded, grinning. Huh. I guess it was a small world. Of course, it had to be my world that was getting smaller. I gestured towards the lounge. "How long had that been going on before I got here?"

Andy looked thoughtful. "Well, your mother and I were… playing checkers-" I raised an eyebrow. "-at about nine o'clock, and all of a sudden there was an angry knock at the front door and some really colourful language." Oh, I bet the neighbours were pleased. "So Nell – your mother – went down the stairs to answer it, and tell the guy where to go, and then I guess she recognised him, and he had a hell of a lot to say to her." He flicked his newspaper. "This is the eighth I've read since hiding in here."

I sighed, gulping another load of beer. I guessed it was gonna be a long night.

* * *

At two o'clock in the morning, the guy finally left. He didn't go quietly, but my mom managed to usher him into his car fairly quickly after she had run out of things to say, and got him outside. I had to admire her. My mother had very few talents outside of writing, but getting rid of people and winning an argument seemed to be another two. 

Half an hour – and a whole bottle of cognac – later, my mother had calmed down. After kissing me goodnight, she and Andy retired to bed, and I was left to finish my cereal in peace. I hardly ever slept more than four hours; it wasn't bedtime for me yet. But I retired to my room anyway, and spread myself across my double bed, deep in thought about the past two days.

My bedspread was chenille – a dream of my mother's since she had first started writing. We were pretty broke when we moved to Carmel, or so I remember. I had second-hand Sonic the Hedgehog duvet covers and jerseys that were at least two sizes too big. My mom had only published newspaper stuff then, and was barely a sentence into her work-in-progress. It took three more years of night shifts at the In-Out Burger, with me asleep on a nearby table as Mom worked the grill, before _Diamond and Pearl _was published and hit Number #3 on The New York Times bestseller list. But as we ate macaroni and cheese, my mom's characters indulged in truffles and champagne. Even before she had seen it up close, my mother loved glamour.

Now, as she strutted around in Jimmy Choos, and owned at least six Chanel suits, it was hard to believe we had been so poor. It was like that had been another life. I had spent all my teen life in designer labels, as well as in my huge house on Pine Crest Road. Before then, we had spent our time flitting from various cheap apartment complexes with names like Opal Close, or Gold Leaf View, even though luxuries such as opals had never been in view of any of the residents.

I rifled through the CDs underneath my bed – some still wrapped up in cellophane. I stuck to the music I knew and loved, and had discarded the many presents Andy had brought me in attempt to buy my approval. He should have known then that only his personality had persuaded me. I found a thin CD stuck into a clear, plastic case, still in its cellophane wrapper. It was a plain disc, with only felt-tip marking on it. The blue words hit me hard. It was funny how I had never noticed it before.

Dirty Bunch.

I slipped it into my Walkman – one of the only possessions I had kept with me since our budget days – and searched for my headphones. I lay back on my pillow, closing my eyes, and listened to the opening track. The chords were clumsy, and the drumbeat clashed, but I kept listening. Things could only improve.

"Chicago nights were dark and bleak, they tore my heart in two…" This wasn't Jesse's voice singing. This was a gravely, rough voice. I thought about who else had been singing earlier on tonight. It had been Jake with his lips pressed to the microphone, singing back-up. This fitted. Jake had a very low voice, and it had taken me by surprise when he had addressed me last night.

It was strange to think I had known about Jake before I had met him, and vice versa. Now I thought about it, Jake was his father's double. The pair had long, dirty blonde hair, and the sleepy eyes my mother's character's love interests often bore. I supposed Jake wouldn't make too much of a bad stepbrother.

"I never knew –ooh – ooh, how cold it was…"

It wasn't just their name, Dirty Bunch's lyrics also sucked. I doubt they actually meant anything. I knew for a fact that Andy had never left California, so it was unlikely Jake had made it to Chicago. And to think, I'd had given the band a fairly decent description before actually meeting them…

I skipped to the next song, where I was greeted with a piano introduction. I could almost imagine Jesse's olive hands gliding over the keys, head bent, gearing up to sing solo into the microphone.

"Take me back, take – take me back for good…."

I was right – it was Jesse. And yes, the lyrics were still bad, but the melody soothed me, and I sunk into the gap between the two pillows, relaxed. I could almost forget that I detested the man – no wait, boy – singing the words. There were no echoes, nor guitars to back him up; it was just Jesse and the piano. I wrapped my fingers around my Walkman protectively, breathing deeply. And the next thing I knew, the phone was ringing shrilly, beside me.

"Suze! Get the goddamn phone!" shrieked my mother, and I sat up hurriedly, receiving a head rush. I looked at the clock on my bedside table, and it read _10:30 am. _Wow. An eight-hour snooze. That must be a record for me. I snatched the phone up, and turned it on, answering irritably. It was Meghan.

"Oh! Suze, I'm so sorry, I didn't wake you up, did I?" Meghan's worried tone softened me a little. I could never stay mad at my best friend for too long. I pulled my headphone out of my other ear, and switched sides with the phone as I pulled my jeans off and flung them into the laundry basket.

"No, Meg, you didn't, don't worry," I answered, and I was sure I heard a relieved sigh on the other end, followed by a groan. I grinned. "Hangover this morning, Meg?"

Another groan burst through the receiver. "Ugh, so bad!" she moaned, and I grinned again. "Listen babe, you were right about me drinking too much last night. It was totally wrong of me to rag on you. You shouldn't give it up, just for one song!"

"I'm sorry too," I replied, and I was. Meghan was my best friend, and I was hers. And best friends didn't drag each other out of clubs due to embarrassment. End of story."But hey, I have gossip."

"About Jesse?" asked Meghan, excitedly, and she was met by silence. "Oops, sorry. But go on!"

"Well," I began. "My dad arrived in town last night." A squeal erupted from Meghan, who quickly regretted it, I could tell, as I heard her throw herself onto her bed and whimper.

"I thought he was like, dead," she muttered in agony.

"He could have been, I guess," I replied. "It was totally strange. He reeked of alcohol, looked like he hadn't shaved since we left fifteen years ago, and was dressed like he was taking husky dogs to the Arctic." I heard Meg laugh.

"Sounds cute," she joked, and I had to laugh too. "But seriously, he can't be related to you. You're amazingly tidy. If you were a man, there would be no inch of stubble anywhere on your body. You'd be shaving every second, and be in golf tees, right?"

"Right," I agreed. "I mean, I thought I was nothing like my _mother_."

The sound of Meghan throwing up was the next thing I heard, and we quickly hung up. I could never be in the same room as somebody who was barfing, and being on the phone to them was just as bad. I slotted the phone back into place, and looked out the window. It was a nice day, as always, and the fact that it was summer vacation made it even better. I had ten beautiful weeks till I had my first day in Northern California State Technical College – my grades were so bad, I had to beg NoCal to admit me – and I was going to make the most out of them. None of the guys would be up to a walk – the bright sunlight would do nothing for their headaches, so they would all be in bed with the curtains drawn, nursing their hangovers – so I decided to go solo, and I found a particularly flirty miniskirt, and floated down to the kitchen, my surprisingly good mood startling everyone.

"Are you… humming, Susannah Simon?" asked my mother in astonishment, as she poured me some orange juice. I just smiled.

"Hey, I recognise that tune," said Andy, grinning with a mouth full of bacon. "That's the one Jake and the guys spent forever rehearsing in our garage." I stopped suddenly. It hadn't even dawned on me that the song I had been humming belonged to Dirty Bunch. I tried to hide my scowl, and sat at the table with my juice.

"What are you plans for today, then, Suze?" questioned my mother, with her traditional black coffee and gossip magazine. My mother could never stomach food before lunchtime.

"A walk," I replied, as I spotted my dark sunglasses on the kitchen counter – and not where I had left them, which was back in my room, on my desk behind my pink ones. "Mom, have you been borrowing my sunglasses?"

My mother chose to ignore this. "Will you take Champagne with you?" she said instead, and right on cue, my dog – a poodle, again due to my mom's glamorous ideas – jumped up at my leg. "She's just dying for a good walk." I looked down at the canine wagging her tail excitedly. I hated how I looked so stupid walking a pink dog down the road, but it got me my allowance.

But, come on. Who in their right mind would name their dog Champagne?

I found Champagne's diamante collar and matching lead (no, I am not kidding) and spent at least ten minutes trying to catch the stupid, skinny dog. It didn't help that she was mostly hairless, except for a ruffle around her neck, and the mop of fur on the top of her head, so she slipped through my fingers easily. But once I caught her, I attached the lead to her collar and dragged her outside, collecting my sunglasses and calling an irritable goodbye to my mom, who noticed at once that my sky-high mood had quickly evaporated.

I slipped my earphones into my ears again, and pressed play. After falling asleep during song number 2, I had barely explored Dirty Bunch's CD. It was quickly growing on me, the mismatched drumbeat and riffs began to make sense, and gave the music its own quirky feel. Even the lyrics were beginning to sound better.

But then, during number 6 – "Polka Dot Banana" – I spotted something at the end of the road. Or rather, Champagne did, who growled angrily at the sight of anything that she didn't recognise. And what she didn't recognise was tall, dark and handsome… but he made my heart flip for all the wrong reasons.

It was Jesse.

It was too late to cross the road, or turn around. He had spotted me, even with my dark sunglasses on. I bowed my head, trying to pretend that Champagne wasn't yowling at all, and I was continuing with my happy walk – though the happy part was slowly deteriorating.

"Well, well, well," came the cheery voice I had come to recognise. "If it isn't Miss Susannah Simon."

"You know," I replied, irritably, taking out my earphones. "You could just call me Suze." Jesse chose to ignore this, and crouched down to attend to his untied shoelace. This was one of the reasons I think Jesse and I clashed. He's way untidy, with his ruffled hair and half-untucked polo shirt. It drives me insane, and I've only spent a small amount of time with him. He finished his shoelace, and looked up to see Champagne nose to nose with him, sniffing wildly. He reached out to stroke her nose, and she growled fiercely.

"Nice…..dog," he said, standing up, as if the word 'dog' would be the last word he'd use to describe the hairless creature now cowering behind me, if he wasn't trying to be polite. He looked up from where he had been eyeing Champagne with apparent fascination, and smiled at me.

"I'll just continue my walk," I declared, and I started to walk away. Jesse, however, stopped me. Of course.

"You could have at least said hello," he said, looking a little hurt. "I have the impression I've done something to upset you."

"We just… don't mesh," I told him, awkwardly. "And sometimes, when people don't mesh, it's just best if they stay away from each other."

"You think we don't mesh?" Jesse asked me, his look of hurt now turning to one of amusement. "You didn't feel it, the first time we met?"

"Feel what?" I asked, becoming a little grouchy. I had kinda wanted this goddamn walk to over and done with before the sun reached it's highest. I hadn't applied any sunscreen, or anything.

"The attraction," Jesse stated, and I had to stop myself from snorting. "We had an across-the-room moment going on. Didn't you notice?"

"No," I replied shortly, and I barged past him, dragging the skinny little runt behind me. I was almost a hundred yards away from him before curiosity got the better of me, and I turned around again and yelled his name. "Hey, Jesse!"

He had been standing still in the spot I had left him, looking deep in thought. He grinned, and met me halfway as I came walking back to him. "Yes, Susannah?" he asked, as if he almost knew the question. I didn't return his smile.

"Just so I can sleep easy tonight-"

"I've been keeping you awake at night?" Jesse interrupted, devilishly. I found myself blushing furiously, but said nothing to answer him. Instead, I asked him the question that had been bugging me since last night, though I almost dreaded the answer.

"Was the song about me?"

Jesse's smile disappeared, and my heart plummeted. I had been so quick to judge, so sure that song had been about me. How could I have been so self-involved? Of course the song was about somebody else. Jesse had only known me two seconds, so it was understandable. Even if it did make me feel like bursting into tears.

Jesse fixed his dark stare – his eyes were like two dark chocolate fountains – with a blazing look. The irises seem to sparkle, and my heart leapt. Maybe, just maybe…

"Of course, Susannah," he said, not taking his eyes off me. It will always be about you."


	4. The Hero

**A/N Thanks to those who read and reviewed! It means so much to me, and the response is just... wow. Please please please keep it up. It makes me smile. **

**Millie**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Four**

I continued my walk – albeit a little flushed – around the estate, and arrived home in what I thought was time for lunch. But as I made my way up the driveway, I noticed there was an unfamiliar car wedged in between mine and my mom's, and I ground my teeth. If my father was making another unwelcome visit, I was not going to be pleased.

I went to slide my key into the lock, but the front door was pulled open by my mother, who had two very rosy cheeks and sparkles in her eyes. She dragged me in for a hug, where I got a strong waft of champagne. Oh no. My mother had been drinking. This was never good.

"Mom," I coughed, choked by the gallons of hairspray my mother had added to her bob. "What the hell's going on? Who's parked on our driveway? Why do you smell like champagne?"

"Oh, Suzy!" Mom cried, hysterically, and she shoved a glass of champagne into my hand, whilst draping an arm around my neck cheerfully. "We're engaged!"

Oh. _Oh. _

"Congratulations!" I cheered, and took a celebratory sip of champagne as my mom led me to the lounge, where Andy embraced me jovially. This was fine, but if the next hug I got was from Champagne, I was going to have to draw the line. "It's about time," I whispered in his ear.

"Isn't this great?" he asked, ignoring me, his eyes sparkling happily. "We can all be one happy family!"

"Great," I said, my voice cracking. That's what I need. A strong, alpha-male leaving his dirty underwear around – because however well-behaved they are in the beginning, the temptation to mark their territory just becomes too great when the house is officially theirs – and drinking all the beer. Maybe, just maybe, I might be able to train him before I leave for college in the fall.

"Yeah," came another voice, and I saw Jake emerge from the kitchen. So that was the owner of the car on the drive. Funny. I would have thought he'd leave that off-white, grimy van in front of our house instead. "One big happy family." I let go of Andy, who proceeded to dip my mother into a movie-star kiss. "Hey, sis."

"Step-sis," I corrected him, though I couldn't resist hugging him too. The mood was just so infectious. "Just because our 'rents are getting married, does not make us blood related all of a sudden."

Jake held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "My bad," he admitted. "So, spoken to Jesse recently?" I groaned.

"Did you put your dad up to proposing?" I asked, suspiciously. "Did Jesse want a 24-hour spy?"

"Nah," Jake replied. "He wanted three."

Three?

"Judging by your expression," Jake continued. "You've forgotten I have two other brothers?" Oh. Oh no. That makes four alpha-males. Four sets of dirty underwear around the house. Oh my God. Get me out of this house. Now.

"Wow," I said, mindlessly. "Three brothers. Neat."

"Step-brothers," he corrected me. "Just because our 'rents are getting married, does not make us blood related all of a sudden."

And so the sibling banter began.

* * *

"_You're _gonna be related to Jake Ackerman?" asked Meghan in surprise, as we slurped our smoothies, overlooking Monterey Bay. She whistled. "Wow. Can I live at your house?" 

"Be my guest," I offered. "As long as I can take my bedroom with me to your house. Give me three sisters any day of the week. At least they're all hygienic!"

"That's bullshit, and you know it," snapped Meghan, rummaging in her bag for a minibottle to add to her smoothie. "You just don't want Jesse to know what you get up to 24/7, and now you're gonna have his bandmate sleeping just yards away from your bedroom, he's gonna know. Fess up. You're freaked."

"Just a little," I admitted. The move-in day had come too quickly. Merely days after my mother accepted him; Andy hired a moving van to carry his stuff over to our house on Pine Crest Road. His prized possessions consisted of a pinball machine (fabulous. I'm trying to get to sleep at night, and all I hear are angry pings coming from the den), a strange looking painting of some woman staring at you (I try to avoid the kitchen as much as possible these days) and a plasma TV screen – which I can never get near, as Jake and Andy are crowded in front of it battling each other at Coolboarder, or whatever. I so did not like the new men-in-the-house thing.

"Have you spoken to Jesse since that thing at Lace?" Meghan asked, taking a huge gulp of her spiked smoothie. "Since the you-will-not-win-me-with-a-song situation?"

"No," I lied, and it felt strange, deceiving Meghan. But me and Jesse's conversation the other day was just like my little secret, just between the two of us. And I liked having it all to myself.

"So you don't know if that song was about you?"

"No," I said again, and I felt a little colour rise to my cheeks. I decided to snatch the half-empty minibottle from the centre of the table and empty it into my own drink. I stirred it with my straw, and took a sip. It burned as it slid down my throat. Perfect.

Meghan looked thoughtful. "Hmm," she said. "It's just so strange. I mean, he didn't notice you at all through high school-"

"Yeah, thanks Meg."

Meg pouted. "You know what I mean. And then he meets you one time after we've graduated, and its like 'ooh, I'll write a song about her'."

"Maybe," I corrected her, keeping to my story. "We don't actually know if it was about me."

We finished our drinks in silence, watching the waves hit the rocks with a huge crash, and admiring the surfers as they continued to fall off their boards and then persevere. I had to admit, they were kind of inspiring. If only I'd had the motto 'if at first you don't succeed, try and try again' drilled into me when I was doing my SATs. I could have been going to Stanford in the fall, instead of a community college.

"Shopping now?" suggested Meghan, and she fished around for money in her bag. "I have… fifty bucks to waste on ridiculous shoes that I will never wear. Wanna come?"

I considered it, but declined her offer. Malls always made me feel nauseous and claustrophobic. After just minutes in the enclosed space, I would have to hot-foot it to the food court and sip herbal tea till I calmed down. I did most of my clothes shopping with catalogues. That way, I didn't overspend, either.

Meghan waved a hand impatiently at me, and clacked off in the opposite direction, towards the mall. I, however, wandered back to my car, where I knew my Walkman and my Dirty Bunch CD was. Finding my car keys in my purse, I proceeded towards the parking lot, where I found a scruffy, middle-aged man snooping around my car. "Hey!" I yelled, and when he turned around, I was even angrier.

"Dad!" I cried, and he looked surprised by the term. "What the hell are you doing by my car? How did you even find me here?"

"Oh, hello Susannah," my father said, coldly. I flinched. Nobody had called me Susannah since kindergarten. Nobody. Ever.

Except Jesse.

"I was just parking my own car," he continued, eyeing me as if he were superior to me. Which was ridiculous. I mean, hello, I was the one wearing the designer labels. If anyone was superior, it would have been me. "When I spotted this one, and realised it looked familiar? Is that O.K with you?"

"As long as you didn't touch it with your grubby little hands," I shot back, and he glared at me.

"I may have been absent in your life for fifteen years, Susannah," he replied, practically spitting out every word. "But I am still your father, and I won't have you speak to me like that."

"Bite me," I offered, rudely. "You're not my father. Today Andy and my mom got engaged. He's my dad now." _Just because our 'rents are getting married, does not make us blood related all of a sudden. _My earlier words came back to haunt me, and I shook my head. "So you can take a hike."

"I'm your biological father," Dad argued dangerously. "And if you can't accept it, that's your problem."

"I can accept it," I replied, narrowing my eyes. "I just choose not to. You think I want to be related to a stinky old tramp?"

"You think I want to be related to a cold, bitter bitch?" my father asked me, and a cold streak hit my heart. Deep down, I knew that was what I appeared to be, but nobody had ever told me. And to hear the words echo off the parking lot walls hurt a lot. I charged forwards to unlock my car, and sank into the driver's seat, fighting tears. My dad lunged forward to grab the car door before I shut it.

"Suze, I-"

"Get. Away. From. Me," I spat, and I reversed backwards, wincing at the sound of my brakes, but it did the trick. My father let go of the door he had been clinging to, and I yanked it shut, before speeding away.

The first place I thought of driving to was Meghan's. I was well onto the freeway before I realised that Meghan was still by the bay, shopping. I swore, colourfully, and swerved dangerously, changing lanes just in time to turn off the freeway on my way to Alyssa's house. Cee-Cee was too soft; she wouldn't tell me how it was. I knew Alyssa – who was the toughest of us all, and was the key to why none of us ever got our heads thrown down the toilets – wouldn't hesitate to tell me the cold truth. Cee-Cee would only ever tell me what I wanted to hear.

The one thing I hate about Alyssa's house though, is the smell. She lives with her grandmother – who is Chinese and wears gorgeous clothes – after her parents died from a boating accident when she was six, and the whole house stinks of cherry brandy and menthols. This used to seem like the best smell in the world to me, until during freshman year we sneaked a few bottles of brandy from Alyssa's grandmother's liquor cabinet and a pack of menthols and overdosed majorly. I don't think I've ever thrown up so many times as then. Now the scent of both things makes me want to wretch.

Alyssa's grandmother greeted me warmly as she answered the door, and offered me a fortune cookie. I declined politely, looking to fill up on vodka more than food. I stumbled up the stairs and found Alyssa's bedroom, which was painted a dark blue, and decorated with various yellow Chinese symbols. I forget what they mean.

"Hey, Suze," she said, spotting me in the doorway. She was spread out across the bed, texting furiously. I grinned. Alyssa was an extrovert, and couldn't stand not socializing for more than two minutes. "Come on in."

"Thanks," I replied, and I perched myself on the end of her bed, head between my legs, searching for goodies underneath her mattress. She kept her alcohol hidden, as Grandma Meng didn't approve of Alyssa's drinking habits. Hypocrite.

"I've moved 'em," stated Alyssa, noticing what I was doing. "They're in my underwear drawer now. Meng was starting to get suspicious, and the 'I've lost a book' trick was getting old." I inhaled, deeply, receiving the mixed smell of vanilla and tobacco. Her room was the best-smelling room of the whole house. I dug into her undies drawer, and found two small shot glasses, and a mini bottle of rum. Dealing it out, Alyssa looked suspicious.

"Have you come to my house just for booze?" she asked me, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes," I replied simply, and she had to appreciate my honesty. We counted to three, and downed the liquid, grimacing at the burn. "Lyssa?"

"Mm?" was her response, as she carefully poured us another two shots. I got up, and closed her bedroom door. Last thing we needed was Grandma Meng finding us out and kicking me out.

"I'm a cold, bitter bitch, right?"

Alyssa looked up, and handed me a glass. "Right," she replied, and I must have looked upset as she quickly rectified her words. "Oh, hon, I'm kidding!" she cried. "Jeesh, where did _that_ come from?"

"Nowhere," I muttered, cursing myself for my lack of control over my emotions. I'd always had the upper hand. Why was I losing it all of a sudden?

"Is Jake pulling crap already?" she asked me, and I downed my shot before she was ready. "Advise your mom to pull of this engagement, quick. It's the only way."

"It's not Jake," I told her sharply, and she just swallowed her drink in response. "Jake's just being Jake. It's fine."

"O.K then," Alyssa replied, but she looked unsure.

"Alyssa! Why can I smell rum?"

We both jumped at Meng's whiny holler, and Alyssa instinctively hid the two glasses and bottle of rum underneath her duvet. "I'll go," I whispered, and Alyssa shook her head.

"No," she said. "I'll drive you home. You were stinking of alcohol before I fed you rum. You're wasted."

"I am _not_," I insisted, but Alyssa wouldn't listen. She put her secret stash back into her underwear drawer, locked it – which surprised me. I didn't know you could get locks for panty drawers – and took my hand, leading me down the stairs.

"I don't need assistance," I murmured, but I began to slur, which didn't help my case much at all.

"Sure you don't," replied Alyssa, and we met Grandma Meng at the foot of the stairs, which triggered her happy-happy smile. "Hey there, Grandma. I'm just taking Susie home, she doesn't feel too good."

Meng looked at me affectionately. "Oh, sweetie," she said to me, taking my other hand and stroking it gently. "Do you need a tablet? I have paracetamol, ibuprofen…" I shook my head.

"No thank you, Grandma Meng," I answered, trying to pull my hand out of her grasp. "I'm just fine."

"I'll just drive her home now, Grandma," continued Alyssa.

"More like to Lace," I murmured, under my breath.

"-and I'll put her to bed and she'll snuggle up." Alyssa used Meng's own terminology to convince her, as maternal language usually did the trick. Meng nodded, and finally released my hand, and Alyssa and I were eventually out of the door, free.

We stuck my car in Alyssa's garage, and flagged down a cab. I had a few dollar bills in my pocket, and Alyssa had a hefty allowance, and we pooled together to get enough for a ride. I sunk back in the leather seat, feeling the cool surface chill my hot and angry body. I wondered if Meghan had got her fix of shopping yet. I could use a good bitching session at Lace.

"Where to, ladies?" asked the cab driver.

"Lace," I told him, at the same time as Alyssa said "99, Pine Crest Road."

I glared at her, and she slumped down into her seat. "Fine," she grumbled. We didn't speak the whole time, and Alyssa refused to get out of the cab when we got there. "Promise to call me or Meg to pick you up," she urged me, and I nodded, to get rid of her. Then I made my way inside.

The next thing I remember is looking at myself and groaning. The whole wall behind the bar is mirrored, so I could watch myself get more and more drunk. I saw the girl everybody else could see – sweaty-faced, sleepy-eyed – and I disliked it. But the more drink I got inside me, the more the pain inside me eased. The more glasses of alcohol I swallowed, the more I could accept what I was.

A cold, bitter bitch.

"Listen, kid, we're closing in a minute. Do you want me to call you a cab?"

I told him – to my disgust, as I remembered the events later – where to stick his cab, and went back to fishing the cherry from the bottom of my glass. I heard loud and heavy footsteps, and I turned to see who had come to interrupt my misery. It was Ned, the bouncer.

"Suze," he said, in a gruff voice. "You gotta get out of this place. We're closing."

"Nphff," I suggested, and I felt a strong arm under my armpit. "Hey, get off!"

I tried to fight Ned, but my balance was off, and my world had started to spin. All I could see were blurred figures, and the top of Ned's red spiky hair. The bartender had come to help control me – I could see the various colours of his uniform – and then I heard a new voice enter the mix. A soft voice. It was soothing.

"Susannah?"

And my world almost stopped moving, and I could see a familiar outline. He was tall – way, way tall – and his dark hair curled rebelliously against the back of his neck. His skin was olive and smooth, and his eyes were like two chocolate fountains.

"Aw, crap," I muttered. "It's you."

"It's a joke between us," I heard Jesse tell Ned. "She's such a little joker!" He took my hand, and my breath caught in my throat as I felt his warm palm up against my cold one.

"Watch it," I warned him, under my breath.

"Do you want to get arrested?" he asked me, just as low. "What were you thinking? Attacking a bouncer, Susannah?"

"I didn't attack him," I argued, but Jesse was already backing into cheery mode, trying to protect me. My hero. Not.

"She's a dangerous little girl," Ned said to him, all crotchety.

"Yeah!" chimed in the bartender. "She's cleaned me out."

"And paid for it," I disputed, but everyone ignored me. Jesse squeezed my hand forebodingly, and I quickly shut up. I pushed a piece of dangling hair out of my eyes, keeping the hand that was in his very still. I didn't squeeze back, but I didn't let go.

Not yet.

"Now, I won't press charges," began Ned, and I could tell that he was gearing up for a lecture. "But I'd like to advise you not to let her drink so much." He was scolding Jesse! That wasn't fair, and he wasn't in charge of me. But I kept my head bent.

Jesse tugged my arm, and I was being dragged out of Lace at full speed. I could hear Jesse muttering ferociously in Spanish besides me, and I couldn't pick out any words at all. My Spanish was pretty much confined to _taco, _and I was sure that there were no _taco_s in Jesse's cursing.

I was suddenly aware of the cool night air, the sirens on the main road. I dropped Jesse's hand immediately, which he did not object to.

"Listen, _amigo_," I spat at him. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can look after myself. I don't need some Spanish bodyguard watching my every move."

"Without me," Jesse disputed. "You would be on your way to a jail cell right now, and your parents would have had to pay bail money. Are you aware of what jail is like, Susannah?"

"Are you?" I threw back, and he blushed scarlet.

"Maybe next time I should just leave you to deal with it," he said, and I noticed a hazardous glint in his eyes, and a muscle leaping in his jaw. This guy was good-looking, that much was true, but he sure wasn't pretty. He was ruggedly handsome, and if I didn't hate him so much it would have made me swoon.

"Next time?" I echoed, wrathfully. He was making my blood boil, I could feel it. "What makes you think there'll be a next time?"

"With a girl like you," Jesse told me, and I could have smacked him. "There's always a next time."

I think I was about to pounce on him, and slap him hard for insulting me so deeply, but it was so hard to remember, after what happened next. As I moved forwards, Jesse grabbed me by the wrist, and kissed me hard on the mouth. At first, I was so stunned, I froze, but I found that I was kissing him back, after a while, deeply and passionately and confusedly and we broke apart, panting hard, and watching our breath circle and fade.


	5. In the Dark

**A/N I was beginning to think I was getting too similar to Sarah Dessen's _This Lullaby _so I decided to add an original bit at the end of this chapter. I hope you like. Please keep up all the reviews they make me smile... :D And thanks to all those who have been reviewing. It means a lot.**

**Disclaimer - as I seem to forget at the beginning of my fics: I do not own _This Lullaby _or Meg Cabot's _The Mediator. _I just put them together.**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Five**

"Dude, she's _here_? Her mom is gonna freak, she's been calling her cell for hours."

I roused, slowly, and almost collapsed again as soon as I opened my eyes. I felt like I had been hit over the head with a hammer. It didn't help that I was in a room that I didn't recognise. The room was painted bright orange – never a great colour to be greeted with when you have a hangover – but the wall was bare. My wall had assorted floral hangings, my Mom's room had her framed publishing contracts, and Jake's was covered in posters of semi-naked supermodels. No wall in my house was bare. It was so eerie to see one before me.

The bed I was lying on had a fairly shallow mattress, and was kinda uncomfortable. I could feel the planks of wood supporting the mattress beneath my spine, and it wasn't helping the way I felt. The light – with no lampshade, might I add – had been left on, so I was having to squint, but I could see through the curtain-less windows that it was dark outside, and that the carpet beside me was littered with pieces of lined A4 paper. I sat up – glad that my world had finally stopped spinning – and swung my legs over the side of the bed, leaning down to pick up a piece of paper and read it.

_I'm like a splinter in her finger, but I know she's so much more_

_She's like a puzzle I have to figure, but I know she's got me raw_

I looked around me, cautiously. This was Jesse's room, but there was no sign that it belonged to anyone. It was practically empty, except from the bed I was lying on, a small chest of drawers with a digital clock perched on top of it, reading **3:02 a.m.** and a guitar in the far corner. It was almost a cold hotel room, if hotel rooms were regularly painted orange.

"I gotta find her, and get her home. Is she in your room?"

I gasped, hearing Jake's deep voice so near. He sounded like he was only a few metres away from the bedroom door. I ran to the open window, and looked outside. It looked like a fairly easy drop – I was the queen of escaping by trellis. I made sure that I had all my essentials in my pocket – namely phone and purse – and hopped out of the window onto the small roof below, just as Jake and Jesse forced the bedroom door open. I crouched low, so I was undetectable.

"Dude, where is she?" I heard Jake ask Jesse.

"I don't know!" Jesse cried, and my stomach twinged at his concern. I couldn't exactly remember the events of that evening. It came to me in snippets, as if they were part of a trailer of a film, but I was yet to piece them together. But whatever may or may not have happened, I was not ready to face Jesse yet. I crept slowly towards the trellis, and grabbed at it with one hand, as the other held me steady to the rooftop.

"Maybe she climbed out the window," Jesse suggested, and my heart raced. No! I let go of the trellis immediately, and shuffled to my right a little, out of sight of the window, which I heard Jesse walk over to. "There's no sign of her," he called back to Jake. I exhaled, heavily, relieved. I then heard the window being shut, and I knew I was off the hook. Snatching at the trellis again, I leapt onto it, and waited for it to become stationary again, holding on for dear life as it wobbled from side to side.

Jumping through a gap in the framework, I descended down the ladder-like pieces of wood and fell to the damp grass. Land. I was on land again.

Before I had time to relish my freedom, I realised I still had to get home. I had left my car back at Alyssa's, and I was God-knows-where at this moment in time, so it wasn't like I could call her and ask her to pick me up. It was also past three am, which some people considered to be an inconvenient time to call.

Jake would have known where to find me, as I was slowly realising I was stranded at band headquarters, judging by the gentle pounding of drums and guitar riffs coming from the downstairs. Only Jake was presently upstairs, searching for me so that he could deliver me back to my mom. So, he was out.

But then an idea struck me, as I spotted the same car parked on the driveway that had intruded on mine only this morning. Noticing that the passenger seat window had been wound all the way down, I ran for it, and climbed in, wriggling my hips so that I fitted. Struggling into the back seat and keeping low, I was hidden just in time for Jake to unlock the car and slide into the driver's seat, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel and humming to himself.

"I said, don't you give me the same old stuff, I want your polka-dot banana and I want your love."

I recognised the song almost instantly. It was becoming one of my favourites from the Dirty Bunch CD I had retrieved from under my bed a couple of days ago. I wasn't about to admit to Jake or Jesse that I liked their music, but there was no harm in listening to it in my own time and the secrecy of my room.

I was sat directly behind Jake's seat, and I gripped the back of it as the car began moving. Jake had now progressed to singing "Chicago Nights" which was one of the worse songs on the album. I stuck my fingers in my ears and kept still during the whole ride home. When we eventually did pull up on the driveway, I made sure Jake had gotten out of the car before sliding out of the opposite passenger door just as Jake locked the car. Smooth. Just call me super-spy.

Choosing to climb up the trellis instead of attempting to follow Jake in through the front door and _not _be seen, I snuck around the side into the back garden. I pulled off my trainers and threw them onto the woodwork first, and then got to work, scrambling up as fast as I could. I knew it was only a matter of time before Jake burst into my bedroom, trying to frame that I had missed curfew. I threw myself through the window and was tidying my hair in my mirror just as Jake opened my bedroom door, accompanied by my mother.

"Oh, hey Mom!" I cried, trying to sound surprised. "Jake." I gave him a glowering look.

"Susie." My mom sounded suspicious. "What are you doing, preening in front of your mirror at quarter-to-four in the morning?"

I found myself in hyper-cheery mode, just as Jesse had been last night.

Yeah, I could remember that bit.

"You know me," I replied, with a big grin. "Little Miss Insomnia!"

"And you've been here the whole time," my brand-new stepbrother said, in a deflated voice.

"Uh-huh," I said, nodding. "Haven't you?"

"Jake has just come in from band practice," my mother informed me. "They have a gig tomorrow, and they needed more hours. But it was funny, as Jake seemed to be convinced you were there too."

I forced a laugh. "Me?" I asked. "Why would I be at Jake's band practice?"

My mother looked satisfied, and gave Jake a withering look, before leaving my room and retiring back to her room. Jake, however, didn't look so swayed. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"You're wearing a mini-skirt," he told me, and I glanced down to see that he was correct. "And that skirt has mud on. I know you're not completely innocent, Simon. I'll find you out."

"I'm sure you will," I replied sweetly, beaming at him. "But if you don't mind, I would like to get some sleep, as – as my mother pointed out – its ten to four in the morning?" Jake scowled, but left my room obediently. I closed my bedroom door, and stepped out of my mini-skirt, to find it was buzzing. I dug inside one of my pockets and pulled out my phone. A number I didn't recognise was calling.

"Hello?" I answered, curiously.

"You didn't even say goodbye."

"Jesse?" I rolled my eyes. "Jesse, it's nearly four o'clock in the morning. What the hell are you doing calling me?"

"Well," Jesse replied. "Seeing as the girl I had left in my bedroom suddenly disappeared, I thought I had better check if she was O.K."

I ignored this. Jesse was too gentlemanly for his own good. "How did you get my number?" I asked, inquisitively.

"Easy," Jesse responded. "Are you forgetting that I am your brother's bandmate?"

"Step-brother," I corrected him, automatically. An eerie silence followed my words, a peaceful interval that was soothing to listen to. It should have been awkward, but it wasn't. And seeing as Jesse had put forward no interruptions, it was possible he felt the same way.

"Jesse?"

"Yes, Susannah?"

"Where was I tonight?"

A light chuckle rang down the receiver. "Only a few miles away, Susannah. It was band headquarters, in Randall Way. You had nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to worry about?" I echoed. "The house was yellow, Jesse." Jesse laughed again, and thrill ran down my spine. There was something about his laugh that just made me feel a little different towards him.

"Now you'll answer a question of mine, Susannah," he proceeded, and I was quite taken aback by his demand. "What made you change your mind about me?"

I thought for a while. I hadn't changed my mind about him at all. Nothing had happened last night, to make Jesse think otherwise, had it?

_**I think I was about to pounce on him, and slap him hard for insulting me so deeply, but it was so hard to remember, after what happened next. As I moved forwards, Jesse grabbed me by the wrist, and kissed me hard on the mouth. At first, I was so stunned, I froze, but I found that I was kissing him back, after a while, deeply and passionately and confusedly and we broke apart, panting hard, and watching our breath circle and fade.**_

Oh. _Oh no._

"Susannah?" Jesse sounded worried. "Are you there?"

"Um," I replied, falling out of my daydream with a jump. "Yeah. I guess I'm still wondering why."

Jesse laughed for the third time. "It doesn't matter why you changed your mind, _querida. _Just that you did."

* * *

"Suze!" 

I woke for the second time that morning to Jake's voice, and this time, to a loud knock at my bedroom door. I frowned, my hangover now finally subsiding, and dragged myself out of bed to answer his call. Wrenching my door open, I greeted Jake with a glare.

"What?"

Jake looked slightly aghast by the sight of me, first-thing in the morning. I pouted. I didn't think I looked _that _bad. I mean, my hair was slightly static on one side, as I'd seen in the mirror as I had made my way to the door, and I knew for a fact that my mascara had gathered beneath my eyes, but I hadn't sprouted a second head. Geesh.

"We're going shopping," Jake finished, once he had managed to drag his eyes away from the terrifying – in his opinion, anyway – sight before him. "So get dressed, Simon. I'm leaving in ten minutes, and I'll yank you from this house even if you're in your pyjamas." I scowled.

"Says who?" I asked, attempting to cover myself up with my dressing gown, as my nightgown wasn't the most modest of garments.

"Says Mom," he replied, and I narrowed my eyes, recalling his words from a previous conversation.

"She's not _your _mom," I snapped. "We're not blood-related, remember? Where is she?"

"Where else?" Jake answered, pulling a face. "At work. I'll be back in ten minutes. We need food, desperately."

I frowned, and slammed my door shut. Of course I could get ready in ten minutes – my record was seven minutes and forty-three seconds – and it insulted me that Jake thought that I couldn't do it. I'd show him. I'd beat _him _downstairs!

Staggering into my jeans and hurrying to the bathroom, I jammed my toothbrush into my mouth and threw myself onto the toilet. Yes, it wasn't the most hygienic of operations, but it had to be done. Dusting myself lightly with bronzer and applying mascara, careful not to smudge it, I was downstairs in just over six minutes – a new record. Jake marched into the kitchen only seconds after, throwing an apple into the air.

"I thought we needed food desperately?" I asked him, eyeing the apple suspiciously.

"I hid this," Jake grunted, and I rolled my eyes. During the few days Jake and his brothers and lived with us, I was quickly educated in the fact that boys were only protective over few things – food, and their body parts.

"Fine. Can we go now?"

I climbed into the passenger seat of Jake's car – it tickled me that I had been in this vehicle, only hours earlier – and turned the radio on. Jake, however, reached hurriedly to turn it off.

"I hate that crap in my car," he informed me, and I shrugged.

"Fine."

We drove in silence out of Pine Crest Road, and Jake turned left. This surprised me. "Uh, hello?" I said. "The supermarket is that way." I gestured to the right. Jake blushed.

"I know that," he said. "We're just making a pit-stop."

"A pit-stop," I echoed, bored. "O.K. Just hurry up."

"You can come with me," Jake told me, and I noticed this was a demand, and not a suggestion. I noticed the sign Randall Way soon enough, and doubts began to flood in.

"Oh, no," I cried, and I reached for the door handle to let myself out. "Stop the car now, Jake, I am _not _going anywhere near this stupid house again. Stop the car, and let me get out."

"Nuh-uh, no way," Jake answered, and I growled. He pulled up on the driveway, and leant over to open my door. "Now you can get out. And you're going to come inside like a good little girl. Capeesh?"

I nodded, and stepped out the car. It was still early, I guessed, as the cool air hit me. I had been too tired to notice it as I had left my house, but now it was hard to miss. The stupid pig had got me up early.

"I need you to do me a favour," my step-brother said, as he met me at the front of the car. "On the right, as I let you in, there's a supply closet. Can you go in there and get me two blue towels?"

"Duh, I'm not stupid," I responded, and Jake looked pleased.

"Good." He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a chain that had several different keys dangling from it, and found the right one, slipping into the lock of the yellow house's front door. "On the right, supply closet."

"I know!" I yelled, and I found the white door easily. Jake followed me into the hallway and watched eagerly as I opened the door and walked in. I was barely two centimetres into the closet when the door was shut behind me and I was left in darkness. I shrieked and spun around, slamming my fist hard on the wood.

"Jake! _Jake_! This is not funny, you asshole, let me out!"

I was met with laughter on Jake's part, and then something stirred from the corner of the supply closet. I froze, dropping my hand from where it had been pounding the door. I reached for the light switch, but a warm hand covered my own before I could do anything. Hot breath tickled my nose. My companion was barely inches away, but I couldn't see anything in the pitch black.

"Who-" I dared to begin, but a hand clasped over my mouth.

"Don't speak, Susannah," a familiar voice said. "First, it's my turn."


	6. The Boyfriend

**A/N**** Thanks for all your reviews! They make me smile :D. I was so hoping for 60! But alas, just the one off. Please keep reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this chapter, it was kind of hard work! Next chapter we'll be moving the story on a little, so this is the last filler, promise.**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Six**

"Jesse?" I whispered, pulling his hand off my mouth. I guess I must have looked pretty comical with my mouth in a perfectly surprised "o". It was likely that Jesse would have laughed in his usual spine-chilling way if he had seen me.

"Yes, Susannah." Jesse sounded impatient. "It's me. Was my cryptic greeting too vague?"

"No…" I began somewhat slowly. "It's just I'm a little surprised to be locked inside a closet with _you_!"

Jesse chuckled, and I felt his warm breath dance on my nose again. It almost made me hold _my_ breath. I disentangled my cool fingers from his warm ones and stepped backwards, narrowly missing a mop and bucket, which fell to the floor with a noisy clatter. I huffed.

"Why aren't _you _surprised?" I asked him, keeping my eyes peeled for even a slight movement on his part, so I could see where he was in the darkness. "You seem perfectly calm about the fact that we're locked inside a closet!"

Jesse laughed again. "Oh, _querida_," he said, softly. "You think Jake came up with this idea by himself? That he just woke up this morning and decided he wanted to lock both me and you inside a closet together?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What was that you called me?" I asked him, but Jesse ignored me, and explained our current situation instead.

"I figured we needed to talk," he explicated. "I didn't think that we said everything last night in our conversation over the phone."

I bit my lip nervously. It was fine when you conversed over the phone – you could hang up at any time. But here, in the darkness of a supply closet, of all places, was not my ideal place for a chat.

"Can we at least turn the light on?"

My plea was answered by the snap of the light switch, and I frowned slightly at the brightness of the bulb. Sheltering my eyes, I asked Jesse for the answer I dreaded. "What did you want to say to me, then?"

"Only to ask you where you would like our first date to be." Jesse's reply confused me a little. I may have been blindly drunk last night, but I still didn't remember agreeing to a date. Even if he had asked me, I still probably would have said no. I'm not particularly good at dates. In fact, I normally just skipped dates, and go straight to the making-out-in-the-front-seat-of-the-car phase.

The last time I had been on a date was when I was a freshman. Bryce Martinson had taken me ice-skating. My bruises still haven't quite healed on my butt. I think I'm scarred for life.

"Date?" I echoed, and I raised my head from where it had been drooping. My eyes focused on Jesse, who had a particularly pleading look about him. "When did I agree to a date?"

"You haven't," he replied, calmly, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "I was just hoping you would go with the flow of the conversation and answer me."

"Then you thought wrong," I said, quickly.

"Please, Susannah? You know I won't give up. Haven't you heard one of my band mates tell you you're a challenge by now?" I raised an eyebrow at Jesse's words. Was it expected of his band mates to tell me this?

"Do you say that to all the girls you meet?" I asked him, suspiciously.

"No," Jesse answered hastily. "Of course not, _querida_. It's just Willem and Jake know me well enough to recognise the signs." He made towards me. "Please just say yes, Susannah."

"Not until you tell me what _querida_ means," I told him, half-surrendering. I couldn't believe I was negotiating. It was like my brain had been separated from my voice-box, and it was acting of its own accord. Why wasn't I turning Jesse down? I didn't like him, the boy got on my nerves even more like my step-brothers did.

"_Querida_?" Jesse sounded amused. "Oh, I'm sorry, Susannah. That's for me to know."

"And me to find out?" I finished, watching carefully as Jesse took another tentative step towards me. His brown fingers reached out to stroke my own, paler ones. I didn't stop him.

"No," he whispered, and my heart stopped hammering – just for a second. He was so close. Closer than I had let anybody who I didn't like near me. "Never."

His body was touching mine – we were hip-to-hip. I could hear his own steady heartbeat, and it was ringing in my ears like the drone accompanying his songs. I could see every detail of his face – the slope of his broad nose, every freckle that dotted his tanned cheeks, the curve of his perfect pink lips… and the whiteness of his flawless orthodontia contrasting against them.

"You don't want to get involved with me," I stated, though he was getting harder and harder to resist. "I'm trouble… I'm obsessive… I'm-"

"Perfect," Jesse finished, and he leant down to cover my quivering mouth with his.

* * *

Mealtime was a big deal, these days. Even my mom made an effort to make it home in time for one of Andy's delicious recipes. I had stopped worrying about the fat content in each of his quesadillas, or his fajitas, and scrambled for my share as soon as Andy had laid down the plates. The problem with three step-brothers was that you had to fight for your right to eat. You had to be sneaky, swift and sly. It was a jungle. 

"Right," my mother said, as she tucked a napkin into the collar of her pristine Chanel suit. "Does anybody have any news they would like to share?"

"Yes," said my youngest step-brother happily, and he set down his fork now that his food was securely on his plate. "NASA are planning to send another space-shuttle to Mars for extensive research!"

The rest of the tribe managed plausible "ooh"s and "aah"s to satisfy David, but we were all disinterested in his hobbies. Whilst my older stepbrothers Jake and Brad enjoyed sports such as ice hockey and wrestling, and listened to hip-hop and heavy metal during their spare time, David was a little of a worry to me. Pasty-skinned and red-haired, David spent his life with his eyes glued to his laptop screen, or to a scientific book. He was sweet-natured, but a bit of a bore.

"I got invited to a pool party at Kelly Prescott's," offered Brad, and this ignited more of an interest. 18 years old and still pretty much bald-chested, Brad was desperate for Kelly's undivided attention and affection. Too bad Kelly had been one of the likes of Jesse and Paul to notice Brad. My stomach flipped as I realised my recent endeavours with the two before-mentioned guys.

"I have news," announced Jake, and he dropped his knife onto his plate and stood up on his chair, before looking down at me and winking. "Or rather, Suze has news," he added. _Uh-oh_. "But she's too shy to say it."

My mother looked at me, curiously. "Susie, what is it?" she asked me, but I couldn't answer her. I had a feeling Jake was about to erupt with it anyhow.

I was not mistaken.

"Suze has got a boyfriend!" he cried, and I groaned – as Brad simultaneously cheered. All eyes – except my mothers, that is, were directed towards Brad, who shrugged.

"What?" he asked and he began shovelling food into his mouth. "I mean the sooner she falls in love and moves out, the better." I cringed at the words "fall in love". I never fell in love. That was my one rule when it came to dating.

"Susie, honey?" My mother's voice sounded intrigued. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

"It only happened this afternoon," I replied, trying to prevent my scowl by grounding my teeth. "And _Jake _wasn't even meant to know!" I threw a dangerous look in my step-brother's direction.

"Hey!" Jake threw his hands up in the like as if to say "So sue me!". "That's what brothers are for, right? Prying into their sister's love lives?"

"Step-brother!" I corrected him. "You're going to be my stepbrother!"

"What's his name?" My mother kept prying, not satisfied with the details I had already provided her with.

"Jesse De Silva," Jake replied for me, and he poked his tongue out at me, rudely. Brad spontaneously combusted.

"Jesse De Silva?" he repeated, and he leant across the table to smack a large kiss on my cheek. "Suze, I love you. Do you realise what this means for me and Kelly?"

"Kelly and I, you mean," David inserted. "Not me and Kelly, it's bad grammar."

The table fell silent – which I was grateful for. I could feel the colour rising in my cheeks, and preferred not to speak for several minutes as David, my mom and Andy finished their meal. I didn't know how it had happened exactly – Jesse and I getting together. I mean, one minute we were just making out in the closet. The next, I found myself agreeing to be his girlfriend. I was at a loss as to how he managed to pull that one off. All I could think was that he must be a really, _really_ good kisser.

"Is he a nice boy?" my mother suddenly asked out of nowhere. Brad nearly snorted mash potato remains everywhere.

"Nice?" he repeated. "He's a freaking saint. Doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't do pot… not that I do," he corrected himself, catching his father's eye. "I just have no idea what the big thing about the guy is." I rolled my eyes. Like I was about to feel sorry for _Brad_.

My mother looked content with these facts, and settled down to finish her salad. I could have killed my step-brothers. I could have killed _myself_. What was I doing with a guy that my mother approved of? I was the one who brought home the pierced and tattooed black sheep, and licked them into shape accordingly. I had always been the envy of my friends, dating the ones they never had the confidence to.

Let me see… first there was Leon. With jet black hair grown to his shoulders and a lip ring that I insisted he take out before kissing me, Leon always insisted he had a tattoo of a pirate. But then he told me that he could never show it to me, or he'd get done for indecent exposure. He didn't take long to get rid of.

Then there was Spike – my first boyfriend of junior year. Practically bald – his hair was _that _short, Spike drove me to school every morning on his motorbike. I think that was the only semester where I was on time every morning. But he had a thing about covering his whole body in tattoos – and when he suggested matching bleeding heart tattoos, it was time to say goodbye.

And finally, there was Neil. I think the biggest space between piercings on his ear was less than half an inch. I counted them one, while he was still asleep. Seventeen on each ear, and knowing him he would have more by now. When one of the fang earrings dropped off and into my cup of coffee, that was pretty much the last draw.

OK, so the creepy black sheep never worked out for me, but how did I know Jesse was? If he didn't drink, or smoke, what did I have in common with him? Sure, I liked his music, and seemed to make him laugh a little… but what about after that?

Or maybe it was better that we didn't like the same things. As I had said about Paul, I needed as few attachments as I could when I headed off to NoCal in the fall. Maybe a little fun during July, maybe heading into August, was what I needed. And after that, just as the charm was wearing off, I could prepare for school.

Yes.

I was always good at talking myself into things.

I excused myself from the dinner table, and sloped upstairs to my room – my sanctuary. Now my house was over-populated with males, my room was the only place where nothing had a ketchup stain on or smelt of BO. My little air-freshener was working its magic, and I inhaled Morning Fresh as I stretched out across my duvet. It was nice to unwind after the stressful day I'd had. Being locked in a closet, and being interrogated about my love life by my family? Weaker people than I would be seeking therapy after today.

* * *

"Wait a minute," said Meghan, choking on the cocktail she had just sipped. "You're actually _dating _him now?"

I nodded, sipping my own drink hesitantly. I hadn't been sure about telling the girls about mine and Jesse's relationship, but they were bound to find out about it one way or another. All I hated about it was that I had told them I disliked him only last week. And I wasn't usually a girl to go back on my word.

"So when's your first date?" Cee-Cee asked me, as Alyssa collected our glasses and went to order us fresh drinks. "Or have you guys already done that?"

"Tomorrow," I answered, and there was a murmur of approval amidst the gang.

"Have you kissed him yet?" Fliss pried, and I bit my lip before answering.

"Yes."

"Is he a good kisser?"

I sighed heavily, causing everyone to lean back in surprise. "Guys," I said, trying to keep calm. "Please. You're acting like my family were the other night."

Meg raised an eyebrow. "The family know about him?"

"They approve," I replied, awkwardly.

"And you _haven't _dumped him yet?" Alyssa slotted into the conversation, bringing with her new cocktails.

"No," I responded. "Why should I?" It was a gasp of astonishment that rippled through my audience this time. I was getting a bit annoyed. I should be in celebratory mode – seeing as Brad got his acceptance letter to some college in New York today, and that meant one less interfering stepbrother to deal with in the fall – but the girls were making it hard.

"Wow," breathed Fliss. "You really like him."

"Do not!" I argued, laughing at their amazement.

"Well then there's somebody you should tell that to," added Meghan, nodding towards the door of Lace. "Because Lover Boy has just entered, eleven o'clock."

I turned my head in the direction she had said to see Jesse pay his cover and walk into the dim light of the nightclub. I prised my mouth from the straw of my drink and set it down on the table Meghan, Alyssa, Cee-Cee, Fliss and I were sharing. I spun back to them. "I'll just be a minute."

"You're not going to _dump _him, are you?" Cee-Cee asked me, worriedly. I sighed.

"Because how can you dump _that_?" added Fliss, admiringly. I used one finger to shut her mouth from where it had been dangling freely in approbation.

I ignored everyone, and made straight for my – … shudder… – boyfriend.

Jesse's adorable smile spread across his handsome features as soon as I came into view. "Hey," he said, and he leant down to deal me a gentle peck on the lips. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I answered, and noticed that Jesse had already slipped his fingers through mine. The easy displays of affection were comforting. Paul had constantly been all over me – Meghan had finally acknowledged at least one of his imperfections – even when I was with my friends. Jesse had greeted me with a gentle kiss, and I doubted he was suddenly going to grab me to make out in the middle of the club. That was one point to Jesse, so far. I looked into his dark eyes and smiled, awkwardly.

"What's wrong?" he asked me, his irises brimming with concern. "You have your uncomfortable face on. Am I embarrassing you?"

"No," I replied, surprised at his assumption. "Of course not." My head twitched at the sound of Cee-Cee's giggle. I watched Jesse's eyes follow the sound. "Ah," he said.

"Ah, what?" I questioned, though I was pretty sure of the answer.

"Your friends," he answered. "are watching us like hawks. Would you like to return back to them?"

"If you don't mind," I responded, and Jesse grinned. "It's just, the more they see, the more they have to tease me about."

"I don't mind," Jesse told me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling him next to me. "As long as you are having no thoughts about cancelling our date tomorrow night."

I hated how he could read me so well. I had been feeling a little doubtful about our date tonight – and the responsibility of repeating it word-for-word to Meghan and the rest of them. But Jesse had seen through my casualness. He squeezed my waist affectionately. I gulped.

"Nope," I replied, finally deciding. I shouldn't be worried about what my friends thought. I owed Jesse this date at least – to get to know him more. "I'll be there waiting at eight o'clock, like we said." Jesse smiled, and leant down to kiss me on the head.

"Thankyou, _querida_." The Spanish nickname scratched at my curiosity. "Good-bye, gorgeous."

"Goodbye… Jesse," I finished, choosing to leave out a compliment, and Jesse chuckled in my ear. He gave me one last wave before walking up to the bar and ordering five beers – one for each member of Dirty Bunch, I assumed. I sat down in my chair between Alyssa and Fliss, feeling a little sad as I watched Jesse walk away.

But I wasn't getting attached. Suze Simon never got attached. It would just be the one date, and then I'd let Jesse down gently. It was the best for both of us. It wasn't like I'd miss him.

Right?


	7. Strawberry Flavour Jello

**A/N I really like this chapter. Especially the end. Some of it is taken from _This Lullaby _but I substituted plastic ware with jell-o. You'll see what I mean when you get down to the bottom. Thanks to all those who reviewed the last chapter, keep it up!**

**I hope you don't think anyone is too OOC. If so, let me know. I don't mind negative comments as long as they are constructive. Flaming is pointless.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Meg Cabot's _The Mediator _or Sarah Dessen's _This Lullaby_.**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Seven**

_Two Weeks Later_

O.K, so the first date went well. Sue me.

I totally wasn't expecting Jesse to take me out to a big, fancy restaurant – and the fact that he behaved himself was surprising too, he knew which one the salad fork was! – and wine and dine me. I was ready for a trip to the movies and a hot dog afterwards, and not champagne and caviar.

And O.K, it's not like _we _consumed champagne and caviar, but the people around us were tucking into such luxuries. Instead, I ordered pasta, and Jesse – being a guy, like my stepbrothers – ordered a nice, juicy steak. Though, instead of ordering it practically raw, Jesse liked his meat well done. And he was actually a very tidy eater. It was astonishing.

Of course, the first time I went back to Randall Way, I knew Jesse had already told the guys about us. I could tell by the way each and every member of Dirty Bunch were trying to hide a smug smile, and were conversing by eye contact only. I rolled my eyes, and took the ice-cold soda that Jesse had handed me straight from the fridge.

"Guys," I declared, prising the tab off the can and waiting for the froth to subside. "I know you know, O.K?"

I was met by an outrageous roar of laughter, and Willem approached me to clap me on the back. I think he was forgetting I was Jesse's _girl_friend. As in, the girls who don't generally liked to be clapped on the back and almost collapsing onto the carpet. "Didn't I tell you that you were a challenge?" he asked me, and I had to force a smile. The celebrations that had erupted were worthy of an engagement party. And that was definitely not happening.

I sighed, and turned to Jesse. "Hey, do you have any rum I could put in this?" Willem laughed, and handed me a bottle of Bacardi.

"Hey, Suze!" cried Dean, before he battered Adam with cushion that burst into feathers. "Can you drink anything that's not spiked? Or are you just permanently wasted?"

"No," I replied, before slurping my tainted cola. "Water is gross if you add alcohol."

I was met with a round of applause, and Willem looked at Jesse in an idolising way. "Dude," he said, casting an admiring glance my way. "If you ever finish with her, give me a call. She's a _goddess_."

I giggled nervously, and felt myself blushing. I had been called many things before – namely whore, cow, bitch, slut – but never goddess. It was something new to me, and I felt uncomfortable.

Jesse took my hand protectively. "Hands off for now, Will," he said, and he laid a gentle kiss on my head. "She's mine." I felt strangely safe in Jesse's arms, and far away from prying eyes and gossiping girls. I had never been one for a security blanket, but I had a feeling Jesse was the closest I'd come to it yet.

"Want some jell-o?" Jake offered me, gesturing towards the fridge. "Its strawberry flavour, but I'm sure if we gave you Bacardi you'd be able to do something with it."

I scowled at my stepbrother, and declined the jelly. Jell-o was the main delicacy in Band Headquarters, and Dirty Bunch practically lived off it. If somebody – God forbid – forgot to pick up a mixture on their way home, then the guys were at a loss as to what they could eat. That was, of course, until somebody suggested they order a pizza.

I learned quickly that Jesse was a fan of strawberry flavour – and that he got grouchy if somebody ate it all and didn't replace it. I was yet to be put in charge of jell-o duty, but I knew it was a job that had to be done responsibly. If you got it wrong, you had to face the wrath of the band. I was kinda grateful I wasn't _that _accepted yet.

Band Headquarters was like another word entirely. The law was that you could only wear the same underwear for three days running, and that the last one up on a Sunday morning had to do the dirty socks laundry. I stayed well out of the way on Sunday mornings, and it tended to be a race as to who could push each other out of the way and sit down at the kitchen table first. Jesse used to work on Sunday mornings, before he cut down his days so that he could claim his place at the table in time.

It was very often Adam who woke up last. He had a job working in a bar late on Saturday nights, and didn't get in until after three in the morning. Sometimes I noticed he had fallen asleep in the pile of dirty socks he was meant to be putting into the dryer.

My world with Jesse and my world outside Jesse very rarely mixed. It was hard to be with Jesse whilst my friends were watching intently, memorizing my every move so that they could interrogate me later. I think they liked Jesse, but they were still sceptical about whether I liked him. It was hard to convince them that I did, after my deep dislike before we began dating.

I did like Jesse, despite my better judgement. Jesse was everything that annoyed me in relationships. He was childlike and infantile – it was a nightmare to take him food shopping, I had to watch everything he put in the trolley and then take it out again when he wasn't looking – he was clumsy and untidy – there was rarely a moment where his shoelace wasn't untied, or he had buttoned up his shirt wrong. He wasn't particularly dirty though – his clothes were the only ones in Band Headquarters that lacked mustard or beer stains. But he didn't follow my dating rules. I didn't do third or fourth dates, but Jesse insisted on it being date night every Saturday night. Three consecutive Saturday nights we had spent together, either bowling with the band or walking through a park together at dusk. It was kind of sweet, how he was so romantic, but that meant it was easier to get attached to him. Even my mother had met him now, and she had thrown praises at him left, right and centre.

Everything was wrong with him, and it confused my logic. But somehow, I couldn't bring myself to break up with him. He was adoring and friendly and chirpy and ridiculous, and it all just made me like him even more…

Suze Simon, you're losing it.

* * *

It was the first day I'd spent on my own in a while. When I wasn't with Jesse, Meg normally demanded I spend a day with her, or I'd get a call from Alyssa, asking to come over. It was nice to spend the days socialising, but it had got to the point where I couldn't think properly. I couldn't spend too long inside my own head or I'd be accused of not concentrating on my companions. 

But today was dedicated to me. Tomorrow was July 4th, and Mom had sent me on a shopping spree to pick up various imported items for her gourmet barbecue. Andy had suggested burgers and hot dogs, as well as a homemade three-bean salad and boiled potatoes. But my mother had other ideas – consisting of goat's cheese, almond-filled olives and crudités dipped in red pepper hummus. I was pretty sure which Independence Day feast I'd prefer, but I hadn't said anything to my mom. Instead, I had picked up the shopping list and put her credit card in my brown leather bag, and was now wandering through the supermarket, carefully analysing each aisle in my search for seafood sticks imported from Norway – my mother had been deadly specific about those.

I picked up normal seafood sticks – my mom would just have to deal – and chucked them into the trolley. I kept on walking. I was into the packets now, with the cake mixtures and the coffee mixtures. I stopped at the jell-o packets. They were on special – half price if you bought more than six. Last time I noticed, there hadn't been any jell-o in the cupboard – not even strawberry flavour. I picked up six strawberry and flung them into the cart besides the seafood sticks, and carried on, before stopping again.

Was I becoming the domestic girlfriend – the one that laundered her boyfriend's clothes, and bought his food for him? It wasn't possible. I ironed my own clothes, and I bought my own food and no-one else's – besides maybe a few things like Skittles for Meghan from time to time. I reached down into the cart and put the strawberry packets back. There. Now nobody could accuse me of being domestic.

Only…

Only Jesse really liked strawberry flavour. The rest of the guys tended to neglect that fact when they went shopping – as their favourite flavour was orange. Jesse was allergic to oranges – and even the flavour made him feel a little sick. I took a deep breath, and collected the jell-o one last time. I didn't have to actually give them to him, I could take them home and they would be gone within two days – consumed by the pigs known as the stepbrothers.

I found the rest of the items – red pepper hummus took _ages _to find – and quickly made my way to the cash register to pay for the food. I dug into my khaki denim bag looking urgently for my mom's credit card as the cashier – wearing a name tag moodily, reading "Hello there, I'm **LUANN **and I'm here to help!" – priced up the things. I couldn't find it, and my fingers ran through the interior of my bag again and again, though no such luck. I was convinced I had lost my mom's credit card.

Before I realised I had put it in the wrong bag.

"Oh my God!" I cried, and "**LUANN**" eyed me irritably. I smiled at her awkwardly. "I… um… kinda forgot my credit card."

"**LUANN"** scowled. "Not my problem," she said, and moved her chair along to greet the customer behind me. I put a hand on the counter impatiently.

"Listen," I said, lowering my voice so I didn't cause a scene. "I have… twenty-six dollars and forty-eight cents. Can I give you that and you write me an IOU?"

"No," Luann answered me abruptly. "Leave the shopping, and go."

"Wait-"

"It's O.K, Suze, I got it." I sighed in relief as I heard a familiar low and manly voice behind me. I turned around smiling adoringly and was ready to embrace my boyfriend as he came to rescue.

"Thanks, Jess-" I began, before realising that it wasn't Jesse who had saved me. It was Paul, and he was handing over his own platinum credit card to Luann commandingly and began to pile the food into carrier bags. "Paul?" I asked, watching in disbelief as he lifted two very heavy bags into the cart without much effort. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Saving the day," he replied, with a movie-star smile. "Who did you think it was? You don't have a new boyfriend now do you, Susie?"

I hated that he called me Susie. It was a nickname I only permitted my mother to use, though I grimaced every time she voiced it. Everybody else I knew called me Suze – or my forgetful elderly neighbours often referred to me as "Sue" or "Susan" – with the exception of Jesse, who stuck firmly to Susannah or _querida_. I was yet to find out what that meant.

"N-n-n-no!" I squeaked, and I piled the crusty bread and Twinkies (for Brad's benefit, not mine) into the final bag and put them into the cart. "No, it's just me. Little Miss Single!"

"Perfect," said Paul, and he signed the slip Luann had handed him before taking his credit card back. "Because I've been meaning to talk to you, face-to-face. I'm really sorry about what happened at Pebble Beach, Susie. Can I take you to dinner?"

"Oh, I don't know, Paul," I answered, my heart hammering fast, searching for an excuse. "I mean, I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about that to you yet. And I have loads to do for college in the fall. It's just not a good time."

Paul took the hint, and nodded. "Yeah, O.K."

"I'm sorry," I offered. "Now, do _you_ wanna write me an IOU?"

"Forget about it," Paul told me, generously. "You know I've got too much money. It was nice to spend it in a good way today."

"O.K," I said, surprised. "Um… thanks."

"No problem." I slung my bag back over my shoulder and leant on the trolley, pushing it away from Paul and headed towards the exit. "Hey Susie!"

I turned around to see Paul running after me, his perfectly tanned skin and blonde hair making him look like the perfect romantic hero chasing after his girl. Too bad I wasn't buying it. "Yes, Paul?" I asked, impatiently.

He stopped a metre in front of me and grinned. "You look good, Susie."

I ground my teeth before answering. "You too, Paul," I said, feeling a nervous and guilty twang in my gut. "You too."

I left the supermarket as fast as I could after that, and quickly reached my car. Opening the boot, I piled my products in and slammed it shut, breathing hard. Seeing Paul again had caught me unawares. I had no idea why I had lied to him – told him I was single. Maybe it was because I was trying to protect Jesse from Paul – even though the two had been high-school classmates. I think I didn't want Paul to know I was dating Jesse because he might try and do something about it.

I didn't know why I was being so pensive all of a sudden, that just wasn't me. Then again, a lot about me had changed since I met Jesse.

I sped down the road and turned left into Pine Crest Road. I slowed down in front of number 97, and stopped in time to park on the driveway of number 99. My mom sent Jake and Brad out to help me with the shopping, and in the end I was just left with two bags. I lifted one up and balanced it on my arm while I reached for the other – which didn't exactly work as it fell to one side and jell-o packets scattered everywhere. I left them there, and collected my other bag.

I'd get them later, I told myself, as I closed the boot.

* * *

I'd forgotten about the jelly a few days later. Then Jesse called me up one morning and asked if I had wanted to go swimming in the local leisure centre. The rest of the band was coming too, but they were bringing girls, and there wasn't enough room in the van for him. I told him I'd pick him up at seven. It was nice in the pool when it was darker outside. 

The swim had been interesting, and I'd had a hell of a lot of fun comparing Jesse's abdominal muscles to Adam and Dean's weedy ones with their dates. Jesse's stomach was ridged and tanned, whereas his band mates' were pasty and flat.

We wandered back to our respective vehicles, and Jesse opened my boot as I lifted my duffel bag in containing my wet swim clothes and damp towel. I reached up to close it when I noticed Jesse had frozen.

"Jesse?" I asked him in surprise. "What's wrong?"

He narrowed his eyes. "What are they?" he questioned me, and I followed his stare to the stray packets of jell-o mixture dotted around the felt surface of the boot. I attempted to shut the boot hurriedly.

"Nothing," I told him, and he stopped me with one strong hand.

"It looks like… jell-o," he said curiously, and he reached forwards for one. "It _is _jell-o." He looked at me with an amused expression. "_Strawberry_ flavour."

"So?" I asked him, trying to act nonchalant. "It's just jell-o."

"I happen to like strawberry jell-o," he informed me, turning the packet over in his hands again and again. "I like strawberry jell-o _a lot_."

"Really?" I tried to look amazed. "What a coincidence."

"You bought me jell-o," Jesse declared with a delighted grin. "You bought me jell-o" he repeated. "Because… because… because you _love _me." He looked extremely pleased with himself, as if he had just won a million pounds, or solved a puzzle that even Stephen Hawking couldn't figure out.

"No, I don't," I replied, trying to snatch the packet out of his hands. "I really don't."

"Yes you do," Jesse insisted. "You love me. Say it, Susannah. You _love _me."

"No."

"It's O.K, Susannah. You can really love me if you want to."

"Jesse, it was on special!" I cried, knocking the packet out of his hands triumphantly and catching it. I stuck it into my duffel bag as if that made it all better. "It was half price if you bought six."

"You still bought it," he persisted. I ignored him, and instead collected the remaining packets of the offending mixture and putting them in various pockets of my bag. A silence followed, until –

"Susannah?"

"What?" I snapped, irritably.

Another silence followed, and I could almost hear our hearts beating in unison. I looked up at Jesse, who appeared to be thinking very hard, as if deciding whether or not it was safe to speak. He finally made up his mind.

"I love you too."


	8. Revelations

**A/N I almost forgot about Suze's dad, LOL - so he'll be making an appearance later in this chapter. Also, I've explained Mr and Mrs Simon's history. And, of course, the Jesse/Suze fluff that we all adore.**

**Thanks to all those who reviewed - I love you guys. Please keep it up!**

**Sorry for the delay - a spontaenous trip to Legoland yseterday made it impossible to update this before I left.**

**Disclaimer - for the last time, this _is _inspired by Sarah Dessen's _This Lullaby_. You don't wanna know how many people don't read the disclaimer/author's note. I don't own _This Lullaby _or Meg Cabot's _The Mediator._ End of.**

**But I am the proud owner of "Polka Dot Banana"!**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Eight**

"I said, don't you give me the same old stuff, I want your polka dot banana and I want your love. Slice it, dice it, do it anyway that's nice, but I want it polka-dotted and I want your love…"

The band was in full rehearsal-mode. Apparently Jake had wangled an A&R chick to come and listen to their next performance at Lace, and it was all systems at Band Headquarters since Jake had made the announcement two hours ago. I mean, I liked "Polka Dot Banana", but two hours of it was just overkill.

I wrinkled my nose. "Does anybody else smell oranges?" I asked, once Willem had concluded the piece with a fantastic cymbal clash. The band looked towards me pointedly.

"Jell-o," they informed me. The _duh _went unmentioned.

I rolled my eyes as Jesse began the opening chords to the next song in their repertoire – "Raw". It was hard for me not to blush during this song, so I left the room to get a bottle of water from the fridge. As I opened the fridge, I found – _quelle surprise _– several plates of orange jelly mould.

I just took a bottle from the shelf, and turned around to see Jesse centimetres behind me. I gasped, almost dropping my bottle. "Jeez, Jesse," I hissed. "You scared me to death!"

"Sorry," Jesse apologized.

"That was some sneaky moving," I told him, and he grinned. "You were playing chords when I left the room."

"I felt like some jell-o," he replied, and then narrowed his eyes. "But there's only orange flavour, because _somebody _refused to give me the several strawberry packets in her boot."

I bit my lip playfully. The six packets of jell-o I had quickly stashed away from him were lying on my desk right now, stacked, wrapped in spangled paper and tied with silver ribbon. It was Jesse's birthday in a matter of days, and I had the perfect present for him.

I should have been nervous – it was our first occasion as a couple – but I had done this a thousand times, whether it was birthdays, religious holidays, bar mitzvahs, relative's weddings… I knew the routine like the back of my front. I just hoped Jesse stuck to it.

"So…" I began, tugging at his collar and pulling his down to kiss me. "When's the big day?" I was referring to the show Dirty Bunch were playing at Lace for the A&R girl. I knew Jesse was nervous about it; I caught him doing laundry yesterday. Jesse only does laundry when he's stressed. Nothing like clean clothes to make you feel better.

"The seventeenth," he informed me, but he seemed more focused on trying to kiss me. I put a finger to his lips and he sighed.

"The seventeenth?" I echoed. "Of July? As in, your birthday?"

"Yes, _querida_," Jesse replied, impatiently. "We are playing at Lace on my birthday – July the seventeenth." I frowned. "May I kiss you now?"

"You are playing a show that you are dreading," I persisted, ignoring his latest request. "On your birthday – which should be a day where you are relaxing?"

"_Querida_," Jesse said, softly, and my heart flipped at my pet name. "I am not dreading the show. The show is pointless – it will get us nowhere. It's just Jake thinking that he can get us signed."

"Oh." I pouted. "But if you're not dreading it, then why were you doing laundry last night? You only do laundry when you're nervous about something."

Jesse shrugged. "I needed clean clothes." I looked at him suspiciously. "Please may I kiss you now?" he asked, desperately, and I had to give it. His gentle pleading eyes were just too irresistible – almost as bad as his wide, curved lips. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the swooping sensation I received every time Jesse's lips neared mine.

And as they met – fitting perfectly, as they always did – I scolded myself. _Bad Suze, _I thought, furiously. _This was breaking all the rules. _Suze Simon never had swooping sensations, or gave in to simple pleas. Everything was changing in spite of my heavy ground-work in previous relationships.

Or maybe I was changing because of it.

* * *

I was busying myself with my own laundry – separating my colours from my whites – when the doorbell rang, the penetrating shriek sounding three times, to the horror of my eardrums. I dropped the clothes I had been handling – one of Jesse's shirts that had been left at my place after a water fight, and my favourite denim skirt – and ran to answer the door, before the visitor could do any more damage to my ears.

It was Meghan – but a very different Meghan than what I was used to. Tear-stained and bushy-haired, she stood sniffing and hyperventilating on my doorstep, and it took me a few seconds to take it in and invite her into the living room.

"Coffee? Soft drink?" I asked her calmly, as she collapsed onto the sofa and reached for the Kleenex at the centre of the coffee table. She looked at me as if I'd grown two extra heads.

"You're not even going to ask me what's _wrong_?" she demanded, almost devouring her tissue during her outburst. I frowned.

"So this _isn't_ PMS?" I replied, and I took a couple of steps back in preparation for her response. And I was right to.

"PMS?" she roared hysterically, and she blew into her tissue noisily. "Are you freaking kidding me? Of course it's not PMS!" I still had my doubts.

"Then what's wrong?" I inquired, approaching her and sitting beside her on the couch. She dropped her head onto my shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably.

"It's K-k-k-k-k-k-enny!" she finished, and she followed it up with another bout of snivelling. I patted her tenderly on the head, waiting patiently for her to elaborate. "He… he….he told me we were better of as friends going to college in the fall, he said he wanted to finish it so that we had time to get over each other before school started, so we weren't distracted when it came to working. H – h – how selfish is that?"

"Insensitive jerk," I agreed for her benefit, but I couldn't really offer my sympathies. I was so used to break-ups by now that I had become numb to them, immune from the pain and upset they caused. And, to be honest, very often it was me who ended the relationships, and they were the ones left upset.

"D-d-d-does he really think I'll be over him by fall?" wailed Meghan, completely ignoring my contribution. "If he wanted me over him by this September he should have dumped me l-l-l-l-last fall!"

I rolled my eyes, and handed Meghan another Kleenex. I had never been one to comfort people – I guess I must have inherited my Dad's sympathy skills – it was always my Mom's territory. She was the one who hugged my aunt after her husband died – I'd been the one sitting uncomfortably in the corner – and she had been the one who picked up brownies from the baker and went round to Mrs Potts went her cat ran away… me; I'd never really been the shoulder to cry on.

"I tell you what," I began, throwing the whole Kleenex box onto Meghan's lap and snatching at the damp wads that had been discarded hopelessly. "We'll call up the girls. We'll go to Lace. And we'll get mind-numbingly drunk."

"Oh Suze!" Meg cried, throwing her arms around me and squeezing tightly. "You're the best friend ever!"

"Um…thanks," I replied, and I released myself and collected the used tissue to put in the trash. "It's gonna be O.K, Meg."

Megan brightened, and tried a smile, before breaking down into tears again. "S-s-s-s-s-uze?" she whimpered, and I tried not to exhale loudly. "What if Kenny's there?"

Aw man. It was gonna be a long night.

* * *

"O.K, so Suze is out – being in a fully-functional relationship with a two year-old," remarked Fliss, which was received by snorts. "But the rest of us can still get out onto the dating scene again, right?"

"Jesse is not two years old," I argued, and Fliss gave me a pointed look.

"I haven't liked jell-o as much as he does since I was two," she replied.

"I haven't liked jell-o as much as he does _ever_," added Cee-Cee with a grin.

"O.K, O.K, so Jesse likes jell-o," I said, arms crossed and "the Jesse frown" painted into my features. "The Jesse frown" was the name given to my expression whenever I disagreed with my friends' views on Jesse. Please note I did not come up with the idea, or the name. "It's just the same as you liking boys a lot, Fliss, and your obsession with smoking, Alyssa, and your taste for alcohol, Meg-"

"And your liking for all of the above?" furthered Alyssa, and the group erupted in peals of laughter. I scowled.

"I'll buy the next round," offered Cee-Cee suddenly, and she rose, leaning over Meghan and Fliss to collect the empty glasses.

"I'll come too," I replied, eager to get away from the jeers I was getting from my supposed 'friends'. I picked up Alyssa's half full glass even though she hadn't finished, and took my own. I smiled sadly at Cee-Cee, who dug into her purse to pay for the cocktails the bartender had put on the counter, and showed him her (fake) ID. I took three of the glasses, leaving Cee-Cee to deal with the other two. She put a hand on my arm before I wandered away.

"Suze," she said, kindly. "Don't worry about what the guys say about Jesse. They're just jealous. I know how much you like him, don't throw him away."

"I don't like him _that_ much," I insisted, and Cee-Cee sighed.

"Stop sticking to your own rules," she told me. "Or you're going to lose him. It's O.K to fall in love."

"I'm not in love!" I cried, which received a few strange looks shot in my direction. Cee-Cee looked disappointed.

"Just promise you'll stop lying to yourself," she said. It was hard not to fall victim to Cee-Cee's angelic looks. With skin tinged slightly pink and white-blonde hair, her violet eyes just finished me off. I exhaled, slowly.

"Fine." Cee-Cee began babbling animatedly after my agreement, but I had switched off, after something caught my eye in the corner of the club. He was sat in the darkest area – where there was only one eerie spotlight, and he had surrounded himself in beer cans, slumped behind the grubbiest table. I could almost smell his nostril-burning pungent from here. I held up a hand to silence Cee-Cee.

"Sorry, Cee," I said, suddenly, and she shut up immediately. I handed her the other two cocktails besides my own. "Can you manage?"

"Sure," she replied, though she looked a little worried. "Are you O.K, Suze?"

"I'm fine," I said, and I sipped my drink slowly, eyes still fixed on the man in the corner of the club. "I'll…. I'll be back in a minute."

"O.K…" Cee-Cee replied confusedly, and I wandered away, slightly nervously, to the back corner of Lace, nearing the man and his beer cans tentatively.

"Dad?" I asked, carefully. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot, and his face ruddy. His stubble was even thicker, and his thinning hair even more unkempt. The smell of stale beer was stronger, and mixed with the scent of sweat and cigarette smoke. I almost choked. "Are you O.K?"

"Susannah," he said, slurping his beverage noisily and burping distastefully. "It's finally suitable to refer to me as 'Dad' now? I thought you didn't want to be related to a stinky old tramp."

"Can you blame me?" I shouted, and a few of the nearby customers looked around, disgruntled. "I mean, look at you. You're revolting."

"Have you just come here to hurl insults my way?" questioned my father, who drained his beer can and cracked open another. "Or have you come here to do something a little more productive?"

"Well, that depends," I replied, and I could feel myself getting more and more furious. "On whether you plan on insulting _me_ today."

"You started it," my father argued, and I snorted.

"Oh, puh-lease." I looked at him pitifully. "Grow up."

He stood up, kicking his chair aside and overpowering me by more inches than I'd anticipated. "Susannah May Simon," he addressed me, and I scowled at the use of all three of my names. "Don't you _dare_-"

"Is this man bothering you, Susannah?"

I felt a warm and familiar hand on my shoulder, and the hot breath tickle my ear. For once, Jesse had come to the rescue when I didn't want him to. But I couldn't put him down. Not in front of this man. It would be too unbearable.

"Jess," I whispered, but my Dad realised too soon.

"Susie!" he cried, patronisingly. "Have you got a _boyfriend_?"

"Jesse, I got it from here," I muttered, under my breath, and Jesse nodded, though his hands tensed on my shoulders.

"Any problems, just yell," he whispered, barely moving his mouth – though a muscle was leaping in his jaw. "And I'll be there, O.K?"

I nodded, and Jesse moved away, reluctantly. My dad pulled a false sad-face. "Has boyfriend gone?" he asked me maliciously, coming closer to me. I put a hand over my mouth to mask the reeking smell.

"Dad," I said, patiently. "You came here to get to know me better, right?" He froze, caught by my words. "Then why are you trying to upset me, and upset all the people around me?"

He was speechless.

"I've spent fifteen years of my life without you," I continued. "But it doesn't mean that I have to spend another fifteen without you. Maybe if you made more of an effort – and took a bath – I'd be more willing to give you a chance."

My dad ducked his head and smelt under his arms. "I really smell that bad?" he asked me, and I nodded. "I just stopped caring once your mother left," he told me, and he gestured for me to join him as he sat down at the grubby table again. "I stopped bothering to look decent – what was the point? I had nothing to live for."

"Why did you let her go?" I queried, softly. He looked upset.

"There was somebody else in her life," he replied, and I waited for him to go on. "He was smartly dressed, he was rich, he was a golfer, for Christ's sake…" He trailed off miserably. "What would she want with a boring old lawyer like me, once she met Phillip?"

I sucked in my breath. All these years I had been left to believe my mother left because of the way my father treated her. I couldn't believe that my father had been forced to throw her out – after she had met another man…

"I didn't want her to take you with her," my father continued. "But she left, in the dead of night. I went to bed with her beside me, two nights after I had given her an ultimatum – finish with Phillip or leave. I woke up, and she had gone, taking you with her…" I realised with horror that tears had sprung to my eyes. I wiped them away hurriedly. "Phillip didn't want her. He was happily married; he would never leave Geri for her. So she fled, to California, obviously. But I had no idea as to where she had gone. I was left to figure it out by myself. Every second I couldn't find you was a second of your life that I missed."

He concluded by staring at me intently, but I couldn't meet his gaze. I had been deceived – by a woman I thought loved me. I had learned to hate my father for the way he had lived with my mother, and now I knew it was all wrong. I stood up, suddenly, and threw my cocktail to the wall, where the glass smashed brilliantly into a million rainbow pieces. The liquid splattered my dress and my father, but I didn't care. I kicked aside my chair and ran for the door, ignoring the shouts of "Suze!" coming at me from three angles – from my father, my friends and Jesse – and kept on going, relishing the pain I got every time my feet pounded the sidewalk, and the relief I got from the cool air that whipped my face hard as I tore through it. My heart was beginning to burn, and my throat was sore from breathing heavily, but I proceeded, running faster than ever towards my destination, and I wasn't going to stop till I got there.

I had a mission in mind.

And it was not going to be pretty.


	9. Ebony Light and The Arguement

**A/N I hope you're pleased with this chapter! Its well over 4,500 words. It took me _ages_. Please R&R! Thanks to everyone who has so far.**

**Disclaimer - I don't own _This Lullaby _or _The Mediator._**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Nine**

Ever since I was a little girl, I've admired my mom. She wasn't the most beautiful of people or the smartest – she bombed her SATs – but to me, when I was five years old, she was the bravest person I had ever met. My hero.

The story I fell asleep to each night was that of a young woman, who escaped her husband back in New York and drove herself and her daughter out of the state and across the country to California. It took me a couple more years and a hundred Geography lessons to realise just how far that really was.

And now, ten years after that, I was pounding the streets of Carmel-by-the-Sea, trying to erase it from my mind permanently. The way I used to feel honoured when I fell asleep on her lap and the way I wished for her to plait my hair and use her time to watch TV on the floor with me. And the way I never used to mind that she was never at home when I arrived back from school. My mother was a fraud. And I had just been too blind to see it.

It was late by the time I reached number 99, Pine Crest Road, panting and wheezing and clasping my chest. It had to be gone eleven, and I knew most of my elderly neighbours would be tucked up in bed by now, and would have been for hours. The argument would have to wait until I was indoors.

My fingers shaking, I reached inside my purse for my keys. Jamming the brassiest one into the lock, I pushed the door open and slammed it, loudly, making my presence known. Kicking on my pumps and dropping my keys noisily on the coffee table, I wasn't surprised to see more than my mother come down the stairs.

"Suze, what the hell are you doing?" Brad grunted, wiping sleep from his eyes. I ignored him and focused my gaze on my mother instead.

"I need to talk to my mother," I declared, grinding my teeth, and not taking my eyes off her. She tightened her kimono nervously, and fluffed her short hair.

"Susie?" she cooed, as she walked me into the living room, hanging onto my elbow. "What's the matter, honey?"

"Everything!" I cried, shaking my arm loose of her grasp. "How could you lie to me for fifteen years, Mom?"

"What do you mean?" My mom asked, sitting down worriedly on the couch. "Suze, sit down and talk to me-"

"No!" I yelled. "You led me to believe that we escaped my dad and the horrible way he was treating us. And then tonight my father tells me that you left him for some guy called _Phillip_, for God's sake-"

"Phillip," my mother repeated softly, and her eyes glazed over. "Ah yes. I remember him."

"Good for Phillip," I replied, scornfully, practically spitting at her. "Do you think you could have _possibly_ remembered him before now, and told me about him in my goodnight stories?"

"Oh, God, Susie," she said, looking up at me indignantly. "Do I really have to tell you every part of my personal life? I didn't really suppose it was that interesting to you!"

"It's important when it involves my _father_!" I cried, causing my mother to jump off the sofa and face me, her expression hard and annoyed.

"What exactly has your father told you about Phillip?" she asked me, her cool and toothpaste-mint breath tickling my nose dangerously.

"He was a golfer," I answered. "And you wouldn't leave you for his wife, and that's why you took off to California, with me in tow. Even though Dad wanted you to leave me in New York."

My mother was silent. She had backed away, fingering the silk of her nightgown sadly. I spoke to her, my vowels clipped, and my voice stony.

"What's wrong, Mom? Did Dad miss out part of the story?"

"No," she whispered. "But you need to know, Susie, I was unhappy at home. I was at home every day, whilst your father was able to get out of the house and go to work at the office from nine to five. It was so tedious, and I was bored. I never got to see your father anymore-"

"So you took up with Phillip?" I snarled.

"Phillip was a mistake," she told me, and she brought her cold blue eyes to meet my own, hazel ones. "I shouldn't have done it."

"You think?" I felt the sting on my cheek before I saw her hand meet my face. My vision shook for a second before I realised I had been slapped by my mother. Maybe I wouldn't have believed it, if she hadn't have covered her mouth with her perfectly manicured hands and tears were tripping down her cheeks.

"Suze, I'm sorry," she wailed, and she reached out to hug me. "It's just you don't understand what it was like for me-"

"And I don't care," I finished, and I ran into the hallway, picking up my shoes and keys as I passed them. "I'm leaving."

"Susie, no!" my mother sobbed, chasing after me, the squeak-squeak-squeak of her slippers indicating she wasn't too far behind me. But she let me go; watching helplessly as I hauled the front door opened and traipsed down the porch steps. "Where are you going to stay?"

"Anywhere but here," I told her, and I jumped into my car, heart racing fast.

* * *

"Look," I said, impatiently. "I will try and find out where my father is staying and crash there tomorrow. I just need a place to stay tonight." 

Fliss looked a little sceptical, but she knew she was my last resort. Meghan was in no fit state to play hostess to her teddy-bear, let alone somebody _human_, Cee-Cee was housing her distant relatives for the next week, and Alyssa was redecorating. I had come to Fliss in a moment of weakness. "Please?" I pleaded.

"Fine," she replied, and she held the door open for me. "But I only have my camper bed for you to sleep on – you are _not _sharing my bed."

"I would gladly sleep on the floor," I told her cheerfully, and I beamed at her as I passed. She led me straight upstairs – her mom was hosting a dinner party tomorrow, and the caterers had clogged up her sitting room.

Rachel Jensen – Fliss's mom – worked nights at the local hospital, and had a strict policy of no uninvited guests. Fliss told me she would flip when she got home in the morning, but she would just have to deal. It was either uninvited at Fliss's house, or sleeping on the streets.

"Felicity Harriet Jensen, you are my saviour!" I sighed, and I sank onto the low camper bed Fliss had set up for me.

Fliss couldn't resist smiling. "Glad I could help, Susannah May Simon," she retorted, and I grinned, lying back on the single thin pillow that accompanied the bed. "So are you gonna tell me the deal about your mom, and why you're crashing here on my lousy camper bed instead of your gorgeous four-poster?"

"No," I replied shortly. Fliss sighed. "Fine," I continued. "I'll give you the shortened version. The long version could take years."

"O.K." Fliss opened her drawers and chucked me some spare pajamas. I smiled at her gratefully. I knew Fliss couldn't resist acting motherly after a while.

"Long story short," I proceeded cautiously. "Is that Mom led me to believe she left my dad in search of a better life. And what _really _happened was that Mom was practically kicked out, because she had an affair with a guy called _Phillip_."

"Oh," Fliss said softly. I knew it was kind of the situation were you were left speechless, but I was expecting more from her – the girl who could talk any guy into anything. I sat in the morning-fresh cotton pajamas on the camper bed, searching for a new conversation topic. Maybe the streets would have been more hospitable after all.

Fliss soon climbed into bed and turned down the light. I turned over, relishing the cool surface of the pillow against my hot and flushed cheeks, refusing to cry. My mom and I had had arguments before – albeit about my past boyfriends instead of hers – but we'd gotten through it. We just needed time.

I reached to my knees automatically – for this was where I kept my Walkman when I slept – and was disappointed when I found nothing. It had become a routine, to listen to the dulcet tones of "Polka Dot Banana" and "Take Me Back" every night. I missed hungrily the talent-less guitar riffs and drum beats.

I rolled over again, and listened to Fliss's steady breathing. I closed my stinging eyes, missed my own bed briefly, and fell promptly asleep, reluctantly dreaming of striped and dotted fruit, and my boyfriend serenading me on Monterey Bay.

* * *

I woke up, a few days later, to the stench of beer and cigarette smoke. I'd finally found my dad staying at a local motel, and had begged him to let me stay. He'd given in almost immediately, offering me the double bed and saying he would sleep on the moth-eaten couch by the door. I had refused that, but I took him up on the suggestion that I got the shower first every morning – a privilege that was rare with three stepbrothers around at home. 

The couch was extremely moth-bitten, the potholes exposing the foam beneath the leather. It smelt strongly of body odour and hairspray, a scent not even my jumper could muffle. I just put up with it, and fell asleep as quickly as I could.

I propped myself up on my elbows, and saw that my dad was still asleep, snoring quietly. I grinned, and hopped into the shower, gasping at the scolding water and letting it trickle down my back. Today was Jesse's birthday – July 17th. I rubbed my hair vigorously. I would have to be up to movie-star standards tonight – the A&R chick didn't want just any old groupies.

I shuddered. _Groupies_. What a word. The phrase brought to my mind swooning and fainting pre-teens, and middle-aged women. I was neither, simply the girlfriend of the lead singer. I admired the band, to be sure, but you'd never catch me collapsing at the sight of them. I was just in it for the constant supply of alcohol…

O.K, O.K, so I know that's not true. I do really like Jesse, and the band. But I'm not a _groupie_, whatever Little Miss A&R is looking for.

I found one of the motel towels with my eyes still shut, and wrapped it around me, shivering slightly from the breeze seeping in through the slightly open window. I got up on tiptoes and shut it, and then looked at my reflection. I was still me – I'll admit a little darker around the eyes and with slightly straggly hair – just in new accommodation. I sighed, and started to get to work on the masterpiece-in-the-making.

My cell buzzed angrily from the pocket of the jeans I had left strewn across the radiator. I hadn't dared go back home and retrieved some of my possessions, so Fliss had lent me a pair of jeans and a jacket, with me promising to have them dry-cleaned and ironed before returning them back to her. Jeesh, like I wouldn't. Did she suddenly forget that _I _was the neat-freak of the gang?

I checked my phone to see it was my mom calling, yet again. It had been four days now since I had left my house in a fit of rage – four days of sleeping and living in my sparkly red top I had chosen for our let's-cheer-up-Meghan outing. It was getting a little gross. My mom finally rang off, and I received my daily text message, informing me of her plans for the day.

_**Family going to the beach. You're invited, of course. Please call me Susie. Mom x.**_

Did that mean the _whole_ family going to the beach? As in, an empty house that I could rightfully break into and steal some of my clothes? I grinned, and pulled on Fliss's – now kinda grimy – jeans, and rubbed my hair with the towel, thinking of the luxuries waiting at home for me right now. Shampoo! Clean clothes! My Walkman!

I pulled my red top over my head and hopped over to the phone table – whilst trying to pull my pumps on at the same time – to write my dad a message. We still weren't on let's-hug-in-a-fatherly-daughterly-type-way terms, but we were talking, and that was good enough.

_Gone to my houses to pick up clothes. Won't be back, party tonight. Suze._

I neglected an '_x_' and the end, and signed my name with a flourish. I leant down to pick up my keys from the couch, and slung Fliss's jacket over my shoulders. Then I opened the door, and closed it with a soft click behind me.

It was a short car drive from the motel to Pine Crest Road, but I made longer to give the Simon-Ackerman household time to clear out. I wasn't taking any chances. I drove past all the gang's houses in turn, checking out the driveways and the windows to make sure they were all O.K, and then I took a left down Scenic Drive and admired Paul's mansion by the sea, and saw with disgust a familiar red Porsche Boxter perched on the driveway. I was then left in doubt that the owner of the Porsche was in fact the owner of the panties I had found in Paul's Mercedes.

And then, finally, I finished in a full circle, pulling into Pine Crest Road and saw with delight that the driveway of number 99 was empty. Easing onto my rightful space on the brick, I turned off the engine, and hopped out hurriedly, not wanting to be spotted by my very many nosy neighbours.

Sliding my key into the lock and yanking the door open, I raced up the stairs, undressing as I went. I threw myself into the shower and waited for the glorious heat to embrace my body. I poured a little shampoo into my hand and massaged my scalp, inhaling the fruity smells and exhaling heavily. Heaven.

Once I was officially clean, I wrapped a towel around myself and ventured into my room. The curtains had been drawn – no doubt by my mother, and the CD player had been left on, tinkling gently with some calming classical piece. If that hadn't tipped me off, the smell of L'air du Temps in the atmosphere would have convinced me that my mother had been doing a fair bit of wallowing in my room.

I pressed stop on the CD player, and opened my curtains, allowing golden light to spill into the room and cast a pool on the floor. I ran a finger along the windowsill – dust! Already! – and sat against my radiator, listening to the silence of the house.

I wouldn't waste time now by drying my hair, or straightening it. I pulled a duffel bag from my wardrobe, and packed several pairs of trousers, a few T-shirts, and my dress for tonight into it, along with my hairdryer and my hair appliances, which I would use tonight at Meghan's. Finally, I turned to see my birthday present to Jesse sitting happily on my desk, the light reflecting off the metallic circles on the paper. I smiled, and lowered the parcel into my bag slowly, and dressed quietly, savouring the cool and clean cotton against my skin.

Throwing my dirty clothes – and Fliss's – into the laundry basket, heaving the duffel bag behind me, I made it downstairs swiftly, and slipped into my pumps. Those shoes would have to do for tonight.

Then, finally, I got outside. I moved fast, darting out to the car, and dumping the bag in the backseat, before climbing into the driver's seat within about ten seconds. Stepping on the gas, I reversed wildly, and then sped up the road towards Meghan's house a few blocks over.

Meghan was pretty much in the same state as I'd left her in a few days ago – snivelling, temperamental, and kind of a mess. I patted her on the back at regular intervals as I got ready for tonight's event at Lace, and after a sleeve and a half of Oreos, plus several cigarettes – Meghan never usually smoked – she calmed down, and was reduced to a slightly quivering mass instead.

"Everything's going to be O.K," I told her, and I found her a rum refresher from her dad's mini-bar. "You're going to feel better tomorrow, I promise."

"I won't tomorrow," she replied, miserably, and sucked the rim of her bottle. "I'll have a hangover – this is my tenth today."

"O.K, then," I continued, trying to be cheerful. "The day after, then. _Then _you'll feel better."

"I hope you're right, Suze," she wailed, and she put her face in my lap, sobbing uncontrollably. I was kind of fed up, but it wasn't like I could just order her to pull herself together. It was hard, the first big break-up. But I was a pro.

Eventually, I lifted her head onto her pillow instead, and hugged her tightly, before leaving for Lace. I left my duffel bag underneath her bed, and promised to return later, after Dirty Bunch's performance. Then, hobbling along in my pumps – which were now beginning to give me blisters – I got into my car for what seemed like the hundredth time today, and made my way to Lace.

Dirty Bunch were just warming up by the time I got my hand stamped and paid my cover. A few of the dedicated fans were already grouping themselves at the front, and I waved to Jesse, his present in my other hand.

He jumped off the stage excitedly, scattering the fans, and he walked calmly over to me. "Hello," he said, smiling. "Good day?"

"Oh, the best," I replied, sarcastically. "But how has the birthday boy been?"

"Beaten up within every inch of his life," he replied. "Eighteen birthday bumps – nineteen if you count the one for luck. I'm blue!"

"Aw," I said, teasingly, and I leant up to give him his birthday kiss. He reciprocated happily, and when we broke apart, he leant his forehead against mine and smiled, yet again.

"Everything's better now," he told me, and I blushed.

"Here." I handed him his present. "Happy eighteenth birthday." Jesse tore open his package elatedly, and once he reached the content he burst into laughter. "Oh, Susannah," he said, and he leant in to kiss me again. "It's the best present I've received all day."

"Good," I replied, and I kissed him gently on the lips. "Good luck, birthday boy. Let's hope you get signed, so you can afford a huge mansion full of beer and jell-o."

"Here's hoping," Jesse responded, and he winked at me before returning to the front of the stage. I stacked the jell-o packets again, and ordered myself a bottle of beer, settling down to watch Jesse as the band began their first song.

It was a cover – some Green Day song – and I could tell Jake wasn't happy. Jake was strongly opposed to covers, and was often the source of arguments at Band Headquarters. But the rest of the band had voted for a cover, as they got the crowd interested, so Jake had to give in.

By the end of the song, a crowd had formed around the stage. This seemed to pick up Jake's mood a little, and I watched his frown slowly disappear. I analysed the crowd, slowly, waiting for Jesse to begin the chords to "Chicago Nights". It was mostly a college crowd, with a few juniors I recognised from school, who had snuck in. Ned was obviously on the door tonight. And then, I spotted her.

She reminded me of a raven. Dark brown – black, almost – hair that was stick-straight and reached most of the way down her back. She wore smart, pointed glasses, and a navy v-neck jumper, matched with a pencil skirt and stilettos. She was also carrying a clipboard, and she stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Hey," said a chipper voice beside me, and I jumped out of my thoughts towards the raven girl. I turned around to see Michelle, Adam's girlfriend. I smiled in a friendly manner, and offered her the seat next to me. We watched in silence Dirty Bunch's next set of three songs, including "Raw", "Polka Dot Banana" and "Penelope" – a song written by Willem about a geeky ex-girlfriend. Then, Jesse announced the band was taking a break, and the five of them made towards the bar, a few yards from where Michelle and I sat.

"So," she said, suddenly, and she dropped her bottle on the table. "Is Jesse a keeper?"

"Um," I said, a little embarrassed. "Oh, I don't know. I mean, I'm off to NoCal in the fall, and kind of hoping to go with as few attachments as possible…"

"So Jesse's just like a summer thing," Michelle finished, and I pulled a face.

"Well, he might last longer than that," I replied. "But I'd just come out of a thing with a cheating boyfriend before I met Jesse." I regretted acknowledging the words _cheating boyfriend._ Now I was Suze the victim. I hated that. "So I was just looking for some fun."

"Oh." Michelle drained her drink. "Another round?" she asked me.

"Sure." I reached into my purse and handed her a few bucks. "Light beer, please," I told her. I turned back around to see the raven-haired girl heading towards Jesse and the rest of the band. Jesse looked overwhelmed at the sight of her, and I thought he was going to faint when she stuck out her svelte hand and introduced herself. "Hey, I'm Ebony Light. I'm an executive at Prescott Productions."

Something twinged in my gut.

"Hi!" I heard Jesse reply, and he shook her hand enthusiastically. "Let me buy you a drink. Cola? Or something alcoholic?"

"Water," was the dreamy response. "It does wonders for my complexion."

All five boys were taken with Ebony at once; I could see it in their eyes. I scowled, and took a sip of the drink Michelle had placed in front of me. I nodded in thanks to her, and then focused my gaze back on Ebony Light. I watched as Jesse bought her a drink and chatted animatedly to her, whilst the rest of the guys watched in dismay. Suddenly, I noticed Jake was coming my way.

"How much are you going to pay not to tell your mom I saw you tonight?" he asked me, and I snorted.

"Nothing," I informed him. "You can tell her I came home this morning and took some of my clothes, too."

Jake's mouth dropped. "Seriously? She has _got _to stop sending those text messages." I ignored this.

"How's it going?" I questioned. "With the A&R girl, I mean."

"Oh, you'd have to ask Jesse," he replied, maliciously, with a dangerous look in my boyfriend's direction. "He's the one practically in her pants." Michelle glanced at me nervously, and I narrowed my eyes.

"In her pants?" I repeated.

"Yeah," Jake continued, obviously forgetting that I was Jesse's girlfriend. "And it'll Jesse messing this up for us tonight. He was the one who got with the daughter of the owner of the club in Nevada, and broke her goddamn heart. We were practically thrown back into California by that guy."

"Oh." I was kind of speechless, just as Fliss had been a few nights ago. It all seemed so long ago now, so long since I had sat with my head against the radiator in my room this morning. I pushed my beer towards Jake. "Have it," I told him, and I stood up, collecting my jacket from the back of my chair.

"Are you going?" Michelle asked me. I nodded.

"Tell Adam I said hi."

Michelle watched me curiously as I left the club, and I stormed out into the hot night air – the fog was obviously taking its time to roll in from the bay tonight – and past the line of people queuing to get into the nightclub. I took off my pumps and walked barefoot around the corner and into the parking lot, before I heard my name being called.

"Susannah!"

I kept on walking.

"Susannah!"

"What?" I snapped, spinning around to face Jesse. The parking lot was practically empty, and our voices echoed loudly.

"Why did you leave without saying goodbye?" he demanded. "In fact, why did you leave at all? The thing with Ebony won't take long. We can go out to the bay, or something, to celebrate my birthday!"

"And take you away from your precious Ebony?" I asked. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Is that what this is about?" Jesse questioned me, his face softening. "You're jealous of Ebony?"

"I don't get jealous," I notified him, and I began walking away again.

"You mean you're not human," Jesse interrupted, and I stopped, keeping my back turned. "Everyone gets jealous, Susannah."

"Not me," I replied, turning around again. "I'm not jealous of Ebony Light, or that girl you hooked up with Nevada. I'm just fine!"

Jesse sighed. "Who told you about Sarah?" he asked me, softly. "Was it Jake? Of course it was Jake. Jake just _has _to get involved."

"It doesn't matter who it was." I could feel myself getting flustered, and I cursed myself for losing control of my emotions. "It's just that _you _never told me."

"I don't have to share every part of my social life," Jesse said, repeating my mother's words. I stopped, shocked. I hadn't told him about my mother, I hadn't even seen him since before then. It was just a coincidence. A painful, heart-wrenching coincidence. "But it might have been useful for you to tell me I was just a summer thing."

"What?"

"I heard you," Jesse answered, and he spoke as if there was a rock lodged in his throat or something. "I was behind you, at the bar. I _might _last longer than the summer holidays, but you want to go to college with as few attachments as you can. Sorry I'm such a liability."

"Jesse-" I began, but we were interrupted by Willem and Jake, who came around the corner, calling Jesse's name.

"Dude!" Jake cried. "We need you back! We're on in like, two minutes."

Jesse turned back to me. "I need to go."

"Why?" I asked him. "I thought this concert was pointless, it was just Jake hoping you'll get signed. You said it yourself." Jesse looked crestfallen at my words, and Jake and Willem looked furious.

"Susannah." Jesse's voice was low and upset. "I've got to go."

"Go," I urged him.

"I'm sorry you sank that low," he said, his gaze meeting mine with a blazing look. "It was really unnecessary, Susannah."

"Well I'm sorry you were the most difficult boyfriend I've ever had," I retorted. Jesse didn't reply to this, but I saw his face fall.

"I've got to go," he repeated. "I'll call you later."

"Good luck trying to get me to answer my phone," I told him. "We're over."

Jesse sighed quietly, and his face was pink, as if he was going to cry.

"Goodbye, Susannah."

I turned away from him for the third time, and walked towards my car. Pulling out of the parking lot, I made a left, and drove away quickly, leaving a plume of greyish blue smoke behind me, along with my relationship with Jesse and the fraction of my summer holiday that I had wasted.


	10. Reconciliations

**A/N A really quick update, yes? You see what lots of reviews does to me? It turns me into pyscho-writer. All I had in my head was _have-to-write-chapter-for-readers_, like a mantra. So do you know what you have to do for another chapter? You got it. Click that pretty little periwinkle box. Thanks for the response. It was thrilling. :D**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Ten**

I pulled into an empty bus-stop and turned off the engine, resting my head on the steering wheel. After ten minutes of mindless driving, I wasn't any closer to home. I couldn't even remember which direction I had taken after the right I took to leave the parking lot. I was breathing, hard, and the windshield was fogging up. I pulled a tissue from the packet of Kleenex I kept in the ashtray, and wiped the window clean.

_**"This car smells like a museum," Jesse announced.**_

_**"Exactly," I replied. "I want to keep it new."**_

_**"Why?" he asked, and he ran a finger along the dashboard. "No dust. I knew it! And you've cleaned this window from the inside, haven't you?"**_

_**"Not recently," I lied. The offending dirty Kleenex were lying at the top of my trashcan in my bedroom right now. "Stop touching my car with those greasy fingers!" Jesse clutched his McDonald's Big Mac protectively.**_

_**"In the interest of science," he said, reaching inside his bag o' grease and chuckling amusedly as I watched his every move like a hawk. "A little experiment." He plucked a single French fry out of the bag and laid it gently on the dashboard. "Look, see, the French fry isn't harming anyone; it's just sitting there minding its own business-"**_

_**"It's sitting there greasing up my car interior," I interrupted. "Can it disappear now?"**_

_**"Easy," Jesse declared, and he scooped the fry into his hand and dropped it into his mouth. "I knew you couldn't stand it being there."**_

_**"And you've proved your point. Well done," I said, sarcastically. **_

_**"Do you have obsessive-compulsive disorder?" he asked me, concernedly. **_

_**"No," I replied. "Now get out of my car with that disgusting fast food package or I will **_**kick **_**you out."**_

_**"There's no need to coddle me," Jesse said, grinning. "Be brutal, really. Don't hold back."**_

I dropped a hand to where that slimy French fry had sat almost two weeks ago. I'd gotten out of the car once I'd pulled onto the driveway, and appeared again almost seconds later, cleaning products in tow. There wasn't even the ghost of the French fry remaining now.

I used my other hand to rub my eye. I wasn't crying, _I wasn't_, but I had something in my eye. I raised my fingers to see I had collected debris from my mascara. I wiped my hand with another Kleenex, and started the engine again. This was ridiculous. Jesse was just a guy – just like any other I had broken up with. Some guys cried hysterically and begged you to take them back; some guys get all macho and aggressive, and throw you out of their house; and others just act all disappointed in you, like Jesse had. It was _fine_.

I drove around, looking for a familiar road sign so I could guide myself back to Meghan's house. I eventually found one, which tugged at my heartstrings: Randall Way. I swerved manically to avoid passing the yellow house, and took the next road instead. Anything to avoid bringing up those memories I was keen to forget.

I found Meghan's house quickly after that, and pulled up on her driveway, turning off my engine shakily. My skin was cool, a contrast to my angry complexion less than an hour ago. It was like I had severed part of myself away and left it back in the parking lot. Even my pulse was slower than its usual steady drone.

I was greeted at the front door by Meghan's face – ruddy-faced and stinking slightly of whisky. He met me merrily, and opened the door wide. I nodded at him meekly, and went up the stairs to find Meghan where I'd left her only hours ago. This time, she was awake, watching "The Wedding Singer" on the floor, animatedly and munching on Fritos from a large bag on her lap.

"Hey, Suze," she said, without averting her gaze from Adam Sandler. "How was everything at Lace? Did Jesse like his present?"

"Yes," I replied, choosing to answer the second question, and ignore the first.

Meghan slowed her chewing, and offered me the bag of Fritos. I declined silently. "You look like somebody spilt ink in your car," she told me, her mouth open so that I could see the remains of the Frito she had placed in her mouth. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I retorted, but Meg narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Suze." She threw the bag of chips onto the bed behind her, and took a cold hand in her warm ones. "I have spent the last week or so moping over Kenny. I think I'd recognise somebody who was upset. What's the matter?" She gasped. "Oh my God. Somebody _did _spill ink in your car, didn't they?"

"No, God," I said, and Meghan looked relieved. She and she alone knew there was hell to pay if someone messed with my car. "Jesse and I broke up, that's all."

This caused her to take another sharp intake of breath, before letting it out with a low whistle. "Oh, Suze," she responded softly, and she patted my shoulder sympathetically. "You can cry, I won't tell anyone."

"It's fine," I told her. "It's fine. We just had this huge argument, and I told him it was over. It's O.K."

"Speak for yourself." Meghan looked devastated. "You guys broke up. On his _birthday_."

"So?" I didn't see the big deal. "He was being a jerk, pulling some kind of smarmy businessman crap around Ebony-"

"Are you aware that the only other worst time to dump someone – other than their birthday – is Valentine's Day?" she interrupted. "If the sexes were reversed – and _you _were the guy, his girlfriends would totally be setting fire to your TV set right now."

"What's so bad about dumping someone on their birthday?" I asked Meghan. "I mean, would they rather have a great birthday, and then have their world crash down the next day?"

"Of course!" Meghan cried, and I jumped at her enthusiasm. "God, Suze. And I thought you were clued up on relationships."

"I _am _clued up on relationships," I grumbled, and I reached behind me for the Fritos I'd turned down and began munching. Screw my healthy diet, and screw the ulcer that rumbled low in my stomach. I had some post-break-up wallowing to do, whether I missed Jesse or not.

But I didn't miss Jesse, when everything was dark and quiet later that night. I didn't need a man to complete me, I never did. I didn't miss him at all.

_I didn't_.

* * *

When I woke up the next day, I was tired of all the loose ends I'd created throughout the past week. It was Monday, a day for a fresh beginning. And I knew exactly where I'd start.

I picked up a clean blue T-shirt from the pile in my duffel bag, and a pencil skirt not unlike the one raven-girl had donned last night. I brushed my hair, and applied some of the foundation I spotted on Meghan's vanity table. That would have to do.

Meghan's mom offered me orange juice as I passed her with my duffel bag in tow, and I accepted, realising my throat was dry. I slurped it hungrily, and shivered as the cool liquid seeped down my oesophagus. Gasping and setting the glass down, I thanked her, and continued making my way outside.

The morning air was cool now, and my fingers tingled in the cold. I'd left my jackets at home, and felt strange without one. I hurried to my car and threw my duffel bag into the back, just as I did yesterday. Stepping on the gas, I ran two red lights on my way to 99, Pine Crest Road. I don't think it was excitement that caused it. It was more likely apprehension of what was in my near future.

I could my mother shrieking from outside. Her bedroom window was open, and her high voice carried to the driveway. I scrunched up my face as I locked my car, and pushed open the ajar front door. I called out, a little tentatively.

"It's just not acceptable!" My mother's wails continued, obviously oblivious to my presence downstairs.

"Hey, Suze," said Andy, coming in from the kitchen to greet me. "It's nice to have you back. Can I take that from you?" I handed him my duffel bag and gestured with my head upstairs. "What's that all about?"

"The car service," Jake explained, entering the hallway from the lounge. He took my duffel bag from Andy and threw it over his shoulder. "I think you'd better come and sort it out."

"O.K…" I trailed off, curiously. It wasn't rare that my mother flew into fits with people on the phone. She often bickered unceremoniously with her editors, and bartered avidly with several catalogue companies. It was always up to me to sort things out. I followed Jake upstairs, and made a right into my mom's bedroom.

Throughout the ten years we had lived in "The Big House" as we had named it, after suffering several years of cheap apartment complexes, my mom's room had never really changed. She painted the four walls a dreamy lilac, and hung a beaded curtain above her bed. When it was draped over the headboard, this meant Mom was writing, if the click-click-click of her typewriter wasn't enough of a giveaway. The combined warning signs meant I had to stay away, until I was given the all-clear. Mom turned grouchy if anyone – _anyone_ – interrupted her.

But today, there was no click-click-click, and the curtain had been parted, and tied to the posts of the headboard. As I entered, my mother's eyes grew bigger, and she stopped talking. I could hear the car service at the end of the line still trying to bargain with her.

"Hey, Mom," I said, and I held my hand out for the phone, which my mother placed in my palm wordlessly. I smiled, and put the phone to my ear. "Is this Albert?"

"No." The voice sounded wary. "This is Thomas."

"Can I speak to Albert, please?" I asked, clipping my vowels. I heard Thomas surrender the phone, and the voice that greeted me next was low and familiar. I smiled, satisfied.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Albert. This is Susannah Simon speaking." Albert sighed.

"Suze, honey, the car thing is messed up, O.K?" he sounded stressed, and I could hear rustling papers in the background.

"My mother is approaching meltdown, Albert." I knew that if I persisted, I could sort this out. I had never failed to achieve success. Take last month, for instance, when my mother had insisted on a new car. She had dragged me to the nearest car dealership, advanced towards the first vehicle, stuck her head inside the interior, took one good whiff of the new-car smell and announced "I'll take it!" I nearly had a heart-attack, along with the salesman who had offered to advise us.

"Mom," I had hissed, embarrassed. But I'd managed to whittle down the outrageous retail price to less than half of it, and a guarantee and free car wash coupon thrown it. I was a genius, it must be said.

"I know, Suze, I know," said Albert, sounding panicked. "You think I haven't been listening to Thomas's conversation? I think I'm going to have to give him the afternoon off just to recover…"

"But what are you going to do about the cars for my mother's wedding?" I questioned, sharply. Albert sighed again.

"You want it booked for the tenth of August, right?" I mouthed Albert's words to my mother and she nodded.

"That's right, Albert."

"A limo?" I agreed, and Albert groaned. "Suze, all our limos are booked up that day. We can send a town car, but that's it."

"I'm afraid we'll have to take our money elsewhere, Albert," I said, and I began to pull the phone away from ear, before Albert cried out.

"We'll give you the town car at a reduced price! Suze, don't hang up!"

I grinned. Perfect.

After Albert and I had finished the negotiations, I repeated the plans for my mother. "A town car is all they could provide us with, but I got it twenty-five per cent of the original price. A limo is available for the rehearsal dinner, on the eighth. Is that O.K?"

My mother's eyes welled up, and she pulled me forwards into a hug. "I don't know how I could have handled that without you," she wailed, and sobbed into my shoulder. I patted her awkwardly, almost used to this behaviour after several days with Meghan. "I'm so sorry, Suze. Please forgive me, please come home."

"Like I was gonna let you ruin your stupid wedding," I said, and my mom made a noise halfway between a laugh and another howl. I exhaled, slowly. The reconciliation was complete. Check, one off my list.

Seeing as I was already my mom's (unpaid, might I add) personal shopper, maid, and therapist, all rolled into one, it didn't come as much of a surprise to me when she announced that I just _had _to plan her wedding for her. I had such an eye for things, my mother insisted, and I had to agree. But as I found out quickly, wedding planning took a lot of patience – a virtue I tended to lack. I had to _wait _for the reception hall's manager to check it was free, I had to _wait _for my mother to decide just how many finger sandwiches she wanted at the celebration, I had to _wait _for the florist to calculate how much the bouquets of roses would be… it drove me insane.

"Reception hall, check," I mused, ticking my list with a red pen one morning at the kitchen table. "Caterers, check. Florists, check."

"Honey, I need you to book a group fitting for the boy's tuxedos," my mother called, and she swept through the kitchen, almost knocking over my cup of coffee. "They'll need to look smart now they all have dates – even David's bringing a girl! And of course, Jesse will need a tuxedo… unless he already has one?"

I ground my teeth. I hadn't quite found the time to tell my mother Jesse and I had broken up, and it was like that statement had twisted the knife. I cleared my throat. "Um, Mom? Jesse and I broke up." She looked devastated.

"Oh, honey, he was perfect! So handsome…" She clucked me under the chin. "Never mind. I doubt you won't be able to find a date for wedding in time, a gorgeous girl like you." It was always amusing how every mother thought their daughter was beautiful. She rose gracefully, swishing her long, elegant skirt around, and wandered out of the kitchen. "And don't forget the photographers, Susie!"

I checked I had noted the photographers (five down from reception hall) and circled it, irritably. My mother had no faith in me, whatsoever.

"We need a band for the party," I murmured to myself, and Andy appeared at the doorway.

"Hey kiddo," he said, patting me on the head. "Busy being J.Lo?" I was actually nothing like "The Wedding Planner", though I was starting to wish I'd requested a headset when I had accepted the job.

"You bet," I replied, to amuse him.

"Well don't worry about the band," he offered, kindly, as he sat beside me and poured himself a bowl of cereal. "I can sort that out."

I looked at him worriedly. "Are you sure?" He nodded.

"Definitely sure. And that's one on your mega-list that you don't bother with now, right?" I smiled.

"Thanks, Andy." I put a big red line through 'BAND' and noted beside it: _Andy is taking care of it. Check on progress soon! _It wasn't that I doubted him… it was just that, well, he was a man. And men could never do a job properly.

"All the invites sent out now?" Andy asked me, through a mouthful of Count Chocula. I nodded, fingering the one left I had in my pocket. I traced the gold lettering on the envelope with my finger. _Mr Peter Simon_.

"Um, Andy?" I asked, uncertainly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, kiddo," he replied. "Go ahead."

I took a deep breath. "Can my dad come to the wedding?" I pulled his invite out of my pocket, preparing to throw it into the trashcan after Andy's response. He looked thoughtful, and licked chocolate milk off his metal spoon.

"You tell me," he said, eventually. "You're the wedding planner."

I smiled, and reached forwards, kissing Andy on his forehead. He looked kinda taken aback, and I was surprised, too. I was never the type to willingly show displays of affection. I sat back down, and slid the white paper into my pocket once again.

* * *

I had chickened out of handing him his invite in person, and so slid it under the door of his motel room instead. I hurried down the creaky metal stairs, and saw two bearded men eye me suspiciously. I continued my journey out of the motel courtyard, my neck prickling.

After this, I decided I was going to treat myself to a smoothie overlooking the bay. I hadn't done this since just after I began dating Jesse, with Meghan. I figured I needed a break, after working my ass off preparing my mom's wedding. I loved my mom with all my heart, but I hadn't slept properly in weeks.

I handed over my $1.59 – the smoothie stall was a bargain – and slurped pensively. There was something about Monterey Bay that was relaxing. Maybe it was the mossy cliffs, or the blue sea lapping against the sand lazily, but the views and the salt air calmed me, and I felt myself slipping into a dreamlike state.

"Suze?"

A strong hand leant on my shoulder, and I jumped, almost throwing my entire smoothie over the man who had greeted me. I looked up to see Paul towering over me, his blonde highlights bright in the golden sunshine, and his tennis tan contrasting handsomely with his olive Oxford T-shirt. He smiled, every white tooth gleaming.

"Hey. I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?"

Getting over my momentary lapse of speech, I shook my head and replied. "I've been good, thanks. Sorry for jumping and nearly soaking you with strawberry."

"No worries." Paul grinned. "Sorry about cheating on you with Kelly Prescott?"

I smiled sadly. "You're forgiven. Just." There went another one I could cross of my mental list of reconciliations. He stuck out a brown hand. I took it, surprised at the heat radiating from it.

"Seeing anyone yet?" he asked me, and this time, I told the truth and shook my head.

"No. You?" Paul pulled a face.

"Nah. Kelly and I broke up the other day. For some guy called Phillip." I raised an eyebrow. "They go way back."

"Sorry things didn't work out with Kelly," I offered, and Paul shrugged.

"I'm not," he replied. "She was too much of a diva for me. You're still top of the girlfriend list, don't worry." I blushed.

"Well, I gotta go," I said, and I held up the clipboard I kept in my bag. "I'm planning Mom's wedding. No time to spare." Paul looked impressed.

"Man, I love weddings," he said, cheerfully. "Maybe I'll pop in, check you out in your maid of honour dress." I grinned.

"August the tenth," I told him. He nodded.

"See you," Paul said, and he waved goodbye.

"Bye, Paul." We went our separate ways, Paul heading along the coastline, me towards the parking lot so that I could stop by the photographers and book somebody for the ceremony. And then a thought struck me. I halted, and called after Paul. He turned around, surprised to see me standing there. I took a deep breath.

"That offer for a date still open?"


	11. At the Radio Station

**A/N Thanks to all those who reviewed - 19 for one chapter is my best yet! Help me beat it? I'm really grateful. **

**Disclaimer - I don't own _The Mediator _or _This Lullaby_. Sadly.**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Eleven**

Something wasn't right.

"It's so nice to have you back, Suze," Paul whispered in my ear, as we sat on the sofa, bodies entwined in a couple-like cuddle. He was warm, and his body heat thawed my chilled skin, but I couldn't seem to get rid off the uncomfortable sensation at the back of my neck. I wrapped two fingers around one of Paul's thick, brown ones and placed his hand where I felt uneasy, expecting the warmth to relax my muscle. But it didn't. Paul kept his fingers there anyway, massaging my neck rhythmically. I closed my eyes and sank back against his strong body.

Everyone had been surprised when I'd announced I was back with Paul. Meghan looked ecstatic at the return of "Perfect Paul", whereas Cee-Cee looked worried, and Alyssa and Fliss each wore an expression of confusion.

"He cheated on you," stated Alyssa.

"He's rich," argued Fliss.

"He's gorgeous," sighed Meghan.

"I liked Jesse," announced Cee-Cee, and everyone bar me shot her an annoyed look. I simply slurped my cola – untainted, for once.

"What do you want to watch now?" asked Paul, and he placed his hands on my hips and slid me off his lap onto the floor. He got off the sofa and knelt down to attend to the DVD player. "I got horror movies, war movies, lurrrrrrrve movies…"

"Any comedies?" I questioned, and I opened his cabinet to inspect his DVD collection. It had been a while since I'd been in there, and it was chaos – completely out of the alphabetical order I had placed it in only two months ago, in June. I pulled out "Without a Paddle" and slotted it in at the end, and then put "Meet the Fockers" in the middle. I had just picked up "Die Hard 2" when Paul's fingers clasped around my own and his iron hold pulled me down onto my bottom, where I sat between Paul's legs on the floor. He held my hand up to the light, and inspected my nails.

"You're so… perfect," he mused, running his thumb over my smooth index fingernail. "There's nothing out of place where you're concerned. I bet you even have your underwear draw alphabetized." He dropped my hand and began ticking off things on his own fingers. "Thongs at the bottom, followed by French panties, followed by crotchless-"

"I do _not _wear crotchless panties," I insisted, and Paul raised an eyebrow.

"It doesn't mean you don't _own _a pair," he argued, and I pouted. He bent his head and began kissing my jaw-line, making his way up my face until he reached my temples. I closed my eyes, and put a hand on either one of Paul's firm thighs, lying back on his ridged stomach.

"I _don't_." My delayed announcement made Paul laugh, and his chuckle reverberated through his whole body, shaking me too. He placed his hands on my stomach and continued laying gentle kisses along my neck. I put a hand in his face and pushed his head back, before turning around and facing him, kneeling.

"I wish you'd stop doing that," I said, removing my palm from Paul's forehead and rubbing my shoulders instead.

"Why?" Paul grinned. "Does it make you crazy?"

"It drives me _insane_," I told him, and Paul stuck out his tongue. "And not in the good way, either," I added.

"Well why don't we try this?" he asked, and he put his arms around my waist and pulled himself up so his head was level with mine. I watched him carefully as he tilted his head slightly and closed his eyes, ready for a full-frontal kiss. I made a reluctant noise and pulled away before his lips met mine. Paul shrank back, throwing his hands up in the air.

I couldn't let him kiss me on the lips.

It was too soon.

"Fine," he said, sighing. "Fine."

I smiled sadly, and hugged my knees. Paul just didn't understand how I felt – _I _didn't understand how I felt. I was with Paul now, but my heart just wasn't in it. It was nothing Paul had done – he had been nothing but apologetic and gentlemanly towards for the two weeks we had been dating – but I just couldn't relax, and I was constantly aware of how my pulse drummed quickly at the back of my neck, never slowly, never calming.

No, something wasn't right at all.

* * *

"You still haven't kissed?" Meghan asked me. "God, Suze. Last time you and Paul dated you had done way more in two weeks than just kiss. What's wrong now?"

"She's still in love with Jesse," Cee-Cee stated, and I nearly swallowed the straw to my smoothie.

"I was _never _in love with Jesse," I replied, hurriedly. Cee-Cee shook her head.

"You're so quick to argue against it, Suze," she said. "But I saw a change in you when you were with Jesse, we all did. I think you were disobeying your own rules, and that scared you."

"What rules?" I asked her, and the gang began reciting them.

"Never date a musician," chanted Alyssa. "He'll pick his music over you every time."

"Never surrender to a chase, because once he's got you, he'll lose interest," said Fliss, knowingly.

"And never date a guy who is close to his ex-girlfriend," finished Meghan. "Because if she hasn't dropped the girlfriend behaviour, then she's probably not been told to."

"You guys," I said, putting down my smoothie. "That last one has nothing to do with Jesse." Meghan pouted, dejectedly.

"You still broke the other two," Cee-Cee pointed out, and Fliss nodded. "And for a guy. Suze Simon, you've gone soft."

"I am _not _soft," I disputed.

"You let Jesse eat in your car," she added. Meghan's mouth dropped open, showing a smoothie-coloured tongue and the remnants of her gum.

"No shit!" she cried, and several tourists to Monterey Bay turned around and stared. "When can _I _date you? You won't even let me eat gum in your car!"

"Gum is sticky," I informed her.

"Fries are greasy," shot back Cee-Cee. I replied with a "so-sue-me" expression.

"Cee," I said, patiently. "I am not in love with Jesse. I never have been, I never will be. Jeesh, I only dated him like, a month."

"Like nothing could happen within 28 days…" Meghan said, softly, and then she perked up. "Hey, that's good. I should write it down, and give it to your mom. Is she having problems with her novel?" She found a napkin in her bag and began scribbling ferociously.

"She's putting in on hold until after the wedding," I replied, but Meghan handed me the napkin nevertheless. "Though I don't know _why_, seeing as I'm doing all the work for her."

"Speaking of," interrupted Alyssa. "How's that going?"

"I only have the bridesmaid fitting left to organize now," I said. "She's making us wear pink. I hate pink. And the required hairstyle is an updo. And you guys know how hairspray makes me choke."

"You're the wedding planner. Tweak it a little." Fliss snorted at Meghan's mischievous suggestion. "You know, accidentally ask for the blue design instead of the pink."

"It will clash with the roses going in the bouquet," I announced. "It's too late. I will have to deal with the pink explosion now."

The gang was silent as they slurped the rest of their smoothies. "Kenny is dating someone else," Meghan suddenly declared, causing Alyssa to cough loudly, spluttering on the drips of fruit juice she had left.

"Please don't tell me you've been driving past his house, Meg," she said, sternly. Meghan looked sheepish.

"There were roadworks." She tried to excuse herself. "His road was the only way back to my place. There was a red Porsche Boxter on the drive – next to his parent's people carrier. And I know it's not Kenny's, because he's saving all his money for college tuition." She sniffed miserably.

"Wow, Kelly moves fast," I muttered. Cee-Cee turned her head towards me. "What?" she asked. I shook my head, not completely realised I'd mused out loud.

"Nothing," I said.

"Meghan, if you kept to the three simple rules I set you for post-break up, this would not be happening," scolded Alyssa. "Number one, don't drive past his house. Number two, don't call him-"

"I got the engaged tone," Meghan mumbled.

"And Number Three, Meghan Thomas, do not look over old photographs of the two of you together."

"But we just looked so happy!" she bawled. This was the cue for all of us to separate, and go our own ways. Alyssa looked up and scowled at us.

"Yeah, thanks guys," she said.

"I have to pick up my mom from the radio station," I told her. "She's promoting her new release. You guys know that."

Meghan's sudden outburst reminded me to how I had coped with my own break-up. There hadn't been any tears – any would count as properly crying, anyway – and there was certainly any incidents involving me driving past the yellow house on Randall Way. The night after Jesse's birthday, I had sat on my bed and opened my Walkman, prising the Dirty Bunch CD from it, and snapping it in two, before throwing the pieces into the fire and watching them fizzle and melt. I hadn't taken many pictures of the two of us during the time we had been going out, but I collected the small amount anyway and threw them in the bin, not even giving them a second glance. My notice-board was now decorated with leaflets from NoCal, a calendar with a lipstick circle reminding me of the fateful day where I began classes there, and several snapshots of the gang. There was also a photo of me and Paul at the top corner. No Jesse in sight – the way I needed it to be.

That night I had fallen asleep to angry rapping – a CD Paul had mixed for me before we had broken up in June. It wasn't quite as soothing as "Take me Back", but it did the trick. I like to pretend I didn't have warped dreams of gangland and fighting.

I still saw the off-white van on my travels, and Jake had even flashed his indicator lights at me once, but it was never Jesse sitting in the front seat. It was always Willem, or occasionally Adam or Dean. I wonder if the seating arrangements had been specifically modified.

I was now avoiding Sundays at Lace like the plague – Dirty Bunch's official night. I tore down any advert of the band's I saw on the street – whether it was attached to a lamp-post or pasted to a wall. I figured the quicker I erased Jesse from my everyday life, the easier it would be to forget him.

I drove home listening intently to the radio, listening for my mom, but I'd missed her. There was nothing much to listen to, a few hip-hop numbers, a little chit-chat… until something that made my ears perk up. I turned up the volume, twisting the dial

"… local band Dirty Bunch with us, ladies and gentlemen. Now, you boys are very young. How are you coping with performing every week?"

I heard Jake's voice first. "Well, Luke, we've been a dedicated band for a long time, so we're used to the pressures. And now Jesse's-" My heart lurched. "-graduated high school, we have more freedom."

"Great." Lucas Green, the local radio station presenter was entirely too enthusiastic. When I had turned this station on first thing in the mornings on my way to school, I had had to shut him straight up. My sleepy brain just couldn't handle his pep. "Any of you boys got girlfriends? Or are you saving yourself for the groupies you're gonna meet on tour when you get successful?"

Jake laughed. It was obvious he was main spokesperson for the band. I could just imagine the rest of the band frowning at him, trying to get a word in edgeways. "Well, a few of the guys have girlfriends, but I'm single right now." I wondered if "a few of the guys" included Jesse. And then I made a point of not wondering. I didn't care. I was involved with someone else. It was likely Jesse was too.

"…well, I'll just let you guys set up. Ladies and gentlemen, listeners of Carbonated FM, I give you Dirty Bunch, singing an original composition." _Please don't let it be __**'Polka Dot Banana'**_ I hoped desperately_. Or even worse, __**'Raw'**_ "Princess of the Moon."

I heard Jesse clear his throat. "We'd like to dedicate this song to a very special girl. We wrote it for her." A lump stuck in my throat.

"Yeah," Jake chimed in. "Thanks, Ebony." The lump dropped away, along with all the assumptions I'd made with it. I made a right, towards the radio station, as the drum beat began to pick up and guitar chords started.

"With her dark eyes and her dark hair, she's the princess of the moon."

Jesse sang the line after Jake, and I could almost imagine him standing there, with his guitar slung across his waist, his eyes closed, and his mouth pressed up against the microphone.

"She's got me under her spell, and I can't help but swoon-"

I turned it off, angry at myself more than anyone else. I'd so firmly believed the song had been for me, even though I was no longer in any way connected to the band. I was mad at the way Ebony's song made me feel. It churned my stomach and made me feel like hitting something, and it was that emotion that made me maddest of all.

It took me a few more minutes until the amazingly tall aerial of the radio station came into view, and I pulled into the parking lot. I turned off the engine and leant back in my seat, waiting for my mother to tap on my window and ask me to open the passenger door for her.

_Bang_. The back door of the radio station suddenly swung open.

"And I can't fight with my heart tonight; everything I am is she…" Drunken-like singing filled my ears, and I lifted my lids to see Jesse and Ebony – in matching Bon Jovi T-shirts – swagger down the concrete steps singing the song I had heard on the radio only minutes ago. I noticed Jesse had an arm loosely draped around Ebony's shoulder, and they were both grinning and laughing. The sight was reminiscent of what Jesse and I had been like just a few weeks ago. Except for the T-shirt. I was never a fan of Bon Jovi.

I don't know exactly how or why I got there, but somehow I was out of my car and on my way towards the happy couple, an army-like determination spinning around my mind.

"Susannah," Jesse said, surprised, and as soon as he caught sight of me he dropped the arm he had around Ebony.

"Jesse," I replied, with a curt nod. "Ebony." Ebony's pale face broke into a polite smile, and she stuck out a hand, just as she had that night at Lace.

"You must be Susannah Simon," she said, as I glanced at her painted nails.

"Save it," I told her tersely, and I turned to Jesse. "Well, I hope you're happy together." Ebony opened her mouth to argue, but Jesse got there first.

"I have every right to be!" he cried, and I was taken aback by his tone. I was expecting a cold reply, but his was heated and angry. "_You _broke up with _me_, if I remember correctly."

"I was under the impression it was more of a joint decision," I snarled, coolly. "But don't worry, I'm fine. I've moved on, too." I tried to pretend I didn't see a glint of hurt in Jesse's eyes.

"I guess I was just nothing special, then," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "No different than the guy after me, or the guy after that."

"No," I answered, imitating Jesse's shrug. "I guess not."

"Oooh, Susie!" My mother's cheerful voice disrupted the argument. "I just met the most wonderful fan-" She suddenly spotted Jesse and Ebony. "Oh. I _am _sorry. I'll wait for you by the car, shall I Suze?"

"No," I replied, turning to my mother and casting Jesse and Ebony a withering look. "I think we're done here."

I walked with her back to my Golf in silence, and I heard Ebony's gentle voice whispering, as if offering sympathy and condolences to Jesse. But I didn't look back. I kept my head down as I unlocked my car, and got in.

"Would you care to explain what that was all about?" my mother asked me, once I had restarted the engine, and was on the main road again.

"Not really," I replied, awkwardly. "The break-up between Jesse and I wasn't exactly a… clean break."

"Ah." My mother pulled down the visor and applied some fuchsia lipstick. "I'm guessing you didn't use the 'I just want to be friends' line?"

"I have _never _used that line," I argued. "Because it _never _works out."

"Oh Susie, you and your rules," said my mother, and she placed a hand over mine on the gear-stick. "You are such a cynic when it comes to affairs of the heart."

"I'm not a cynic," I replied, carefully. "I'm just… wary of it, that's all."

"Do you believe in love, Susannah?" she asked me. I was sort of surprised by the abrupt question. I thought about it.

"I don't suppose I do."

My mother sighed. "Why?"

"Because it never works out," I said, flicking the indicator light on as I made a left. "I mean, look at you and Dad. And Kenny and Meghan."

"And then look at Andy and I," she added, smiling a little. "We're happy." I had to resist sticking a 'for now' at the end of her sentence. It was my turn to sigh.

"I've always believed in love, Suze," my mother continued. "Even in the darker times – when I couldn't get a date because I smelt of chip fat and has an inch of grease beneath my nails after working at In-Out Burger. Even before I met Andy, I knew love was out there waiting for me."

I admired my mother for this, and yet I pitied her. It was amazing, her faith in something so strong. But I didn't believe in love, I'd left my belief behind a long time ago. And nothing was going to change that.

Nothing.


	12. The Rehearsal Dinner

**A/N I think this has to be another one of my favourite chapters. Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed faithfully.**

**This chapter is for sunnybee, the nicest reviewer I think I have ever met! Hate to break it to you though, I can't ever get this published because many of the ideas are taken from Sarah Dessen's _This Lullaby_. This chapter, however, isn't.**

**Also dedicated to xoxdefygravityxox, if she's reading. Its great to hear from you again.**

**And finally, thanks to little drop of sunshine - who had a lot to do with the plot of this chapter. And Moonlight Silhouette - my duplicate in all thigns fanfiction - except of course, in reviews as you have so many! She helped me with the Jesse/Ebony-ness you guys all hated. I love you two very dearly. **

**Please read and review, and more importantly... enjoy.**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Twelve**

"I just love weddings," sighed Meghan, and she took yet another sip of her champagne, even though pink spots had appeared on her cheeks hours ago.

"Um, Meg?" asked Cee-Cee tentatively. "It's not the wedding yet. This is just the rehearsal dinner. Are you feeling O.K?"

"She's completely pissed," snorted Paul, who had raised his face from my neck especially to make his point. "She may be feeling O.K now, but she sure as hell won't be in the morning."

I shot Paul a pointed look before taking Meghan's cold hand, which she squeezed just a little too enthusiastically. "I _know _this isn't the wedding," she said, exasperatedly. "But I still _love _them."

"I'm glad someone's excited," I replied, patting her back affectionately. I couldn't hear myself think – all four walls of the reception hall were echoing the guest's vivacious chatter. It was so loud I couldn't even pick out words, and the only way I could deal with it was to down the champagne put on our table. It seemed to be working well so far.

"I still love _Kenny _too…" Meghan began to wail, lowering her head to the floor sadly, and the whole table groaned. In a sober state, Meghan seemed to be over her boyfriend's betrayal, but under the influence of alcohol, she wasn't so sure. Alyssa – who seemed to have appointed herself Meghan's shrink – swapped seats with an eager Fliss and spoke to her sternly.

"Meghan Thomas," she said, and her sharp tone made Meghan sit up quickly. "If you don't stop wallowing about your stupid, inconsiderate and completely unworthy ex-boyfriend of yours – which is driving us all insane, by the way – I will pour the entire bottle of champagne, and the ice it's sitting in, over your head and kick you out in the cold."

"Stupid, inconsiderate and completely unworthy ex-boyfriend," she repeated confidently, with a smile. Alyssa nodded her head, satisfied, and shrugged at me.

"It's progress," she said.

I was about to reply – I think maybe to ask about her grandmother – but I was interrupted by hyena-like laughing, and the appearance of oh-so-familiar faces at the door of the reception hall. I was out of my seat faster than you could say "Dirty Bunch" and head straight for the culprit of the intrusion.

"Oh no you don't," I said, thrusting an accusing finger in Jake's face. "I am not having some stupid…_band-_" I spat the last word as if I was considering calling them another name. "- ruin my mother's rehearsal dinner."

Jake just grinned, and closed a hand over my finger. "Sorry, Miss Wedding Planner, but I was invited to this dinner, and I could bring guests. Just like you did." He shot a glance over to Paul, who was – along with the girls I'd abandoned him with – curiously watching me. "You brought lover boy, and I brought the guys."

I scowled. "Wipe your feet," I ordered. "And behave."

"Of course, m'lady," he replied, and he bowed low mockingly. I exhaled shortly, and stormed back to my table, already feeling like the night was slowly going to turn into a disaster. Paul took my hand and squeezed it gently, and whispered in my ear.

"You want to go somewhere a little more private for a sec?" His cool, Listerine-scented breath tickled my earlobe, and I nodded my head subtly. Dropping his hand – which instead began distractingly stroking my leg – I addressed my friends, who were all unconvincingly trying to look as if they hadn't been watching us in fascination.

"We'll just… be a bit," I told them, standing up and pushing my chair under the table. All four of them nodded at me like those stupid bobble-heads, smiling smugly.

"I didn't know there was a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven going on," Alyssa said out of the corner of her mouth. I smacked her shoulder playfully and Paul took my other hand, entwining his masculine fingers with mine, which were pale and – I'm ashamed to say – a little clammy, due to nerves about my mother's wedding only two days away.

God, I didn't know why I was so nervous. _I _wasn't the one getting married. Jeesh.

Paul led me out of the main room, and down a narrow corridor. He came to the end – which had no windows, so it was becoming slightly dark – and opened a thin door, gesturing for me to go inside.

"A broom cupboard?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow humorously. He sighed, and leant on the door, causing it to creak.

"Do you see anywhere else?" he retorted, and I took his hands in mine.

"Let's just stay here," I said, squinting in the dim duskiness. "In the corridor." He began turning my hands over and over, examining my palms and my fingernails and my fingerprints gently. Then he lifted one over his shoulder, and put the other one to his face, the cold of it contrasting with the constant heat from his cheeks.

I'm not sure what made me do it. It could have been the fact that I was just so nervous, and I needed a distraction. It could have been the rage I felt about Jesse and Ebony, and Jake barging into the dinner accompanied by all his music pals… or it could have just been that I hadn't been kissed on the lips for a record amount of time…

I curled my hand around the back of Paul's neck, whilst letting the other one drop to his waist. Simultaneously, Paul put his hand at the back of my head, supporting it, whilst the fingers of the other one played with the tendrils of hair flowing down my back. I closed my eyes, knowing what happens next – what always happened next. I had this relationship wired. This relationship, unlike my previous one, followed the mechanics.

Paul closed his eyes a fraction of a second after me, pulling my face towards his as his lids slowly drooped. I felt his fresh exhalation of my lips before his skin, and then finally we met – just for second, before we broke apart and adjusted our heads, fitting together again. This kiss was cool, and clean, and dry, and not bad as far as kisses go, but it lacked something.

Something I just couldn't put my finger on.

We had progressed to leaning against the wall, pressed up against each other, when the door at the other end of the corridor banged loudly. We broke apart, jumping, and Paul was stood opposite me, breathing hard, hand over his heart.

"What the hell was that-?"

"Susannah?"

My stomach lurched as soon as I realised just what and who had interrupted us. I smoothed my skirt and ruffled my hair, rolling my eyes.

"Oh, for the love of God, Jesse." Paul's eyes widened at my words.

"Jesse?" he repeated, mouth slightly open in shock. "As in, Jesse De Silva? Suze, you know this guy?" I went to excuse myself, but I was too slow.

"Actually, we dated," Jesse replied, coming closer, voicing the exact words that I _didn't _want Paul to hear. I grimaced, closing my eyes in disgust, too embarrassed to see his reaction. "A couple of weeks after you shamelessly cheated on her with Kelly Prescott." I didn't have to have my eyes open to know Paul was curling his fists, ready to pounce.

"We're back together," he replied, and my eyes re-opened when I felt his arm around my shoulder.

"Gee, never would have guessed _that_ by the way you two were behaving just a few seconds ago," he said, sarcastically, and I tell, as he took another step closer, that he was drunk – or very close to it. A faint smell of beer was hanging in the air.

"That means back _off_," grunted Paul, and he took a step forward to demonstrate the point. Jesse faltered a little, wandering backwards, before raising his arm and dealing Paul a hard punch, which made a swooping noise as it fell through the air, and sent Paul sprawling into the broom cupboard door.

"Bastard," he muttered, before jumping back to his feet and rugby-tackling Jesse to the floor, fighting off Jesse's attacks whilst trying to achieve some digs of his own.

"Stop!" I screamed, as the two went rolling down the corridor in a collection of flailing limbs. "Stop it! Hello, are you even listening to me?"

I followed them hesitantly, and watching helplessly as I heard the unmistakable noise of tearing nasal cartilage and saw Jesse lift a bloody hand, triumphantly. One of Paul's shoes had come off in the battle, and I picked it up with a Kleenex I had folded in my pocket – in case of emergencies – and continued chasing after them, yelling both their names.

"Jesse!" I cried. "Paul! Stop it! You're ruining the rehearsal dinner!"

They crashed into the reception hall's main room, and I heard all of the chipper talking die away as Paul and Jesse fumbled and swore colourfully, scrapping away. I ran in behind them, carrying Paul's leather shoe and a patch of Jesse's shirt that had been torn away, and Cee-Cee and Fliss just looked at me, as if somehow I was to blame. Meghan was sniffling again, however, and hadn't noticed the brawl.

"Stop!" I yelled for the third time, but my plea was drowned by the sound of a smashing plate. I gasped, whirling around to see who had committed such a crime to kitchenware. It was Andy, and he had another one in his hand in case the first hadn't worked.

But it had. Jesse and Paul lay on the floor in a frozen position – Jesse with a leg over Paul's shoulder, yanking his tie so that Paul was slowly turning blue, and Paul with a shoeless foot in Jesse's face, and an iron clasp on his wrist holding him to the floor. I sat down meekly, falling victim to Andy's unfailing stare and watched to see the consequences.

"I suggest," However, Andy spoke calmly. "That you two boys release each other, get up, and sort yourselves out."

Jesse and Paul wasted no time in removing their hands from each other's bodies, and began to stand up, when a ripping sound echoed through the silence. Part of Jesse's shirt had frayed away to reveal a set of perfect abdominal muscles. I had to clap a hand over Fliss's mouth to stop her gasping.

"You broke up with _that_?" she hissed.

Jesse took off the remains of his shirt and balled it up, sighing. Paul watched him uncomfortably. I knew for a fact that he didn't have a stomach like that. Jesse then walked away, and began talking with his band members. The noise level of the reception hall then began to rise again, as the guests' attentions were drew elsewhere.

Paul made his way over to me, and leant in for a quite peck. I gave him the cheek, not quite meeting his eye. This surprised him.

"_You're _the one who dated one of my school friends, but _I'm _the one who gets ignored?" he asked me. "Suze, that's messed up."

"I just can't believe you ruined my mom's rehearsal dinner," I replied, and I looked over to where my mother was conversing with one of Andy's sisters, a glass of champagne in one hand.

"It wasn't just me-" Paul began, and I interrupted him with a wave of my hand.

"I know, I know," I said, impatiently. "It was Jesse, too. But you're the one I'm talking to right now."

"I'm sorry," Paul said, and I leant my head against his chest reluctantly. "I'll go and make Jesse apologize too."

"No," I disputed, raising my head, and reaching behind me for my glass of champagne. "I'll go and talk to him." I nodded to Alyssa, who had Meghan drinking water instead of champagne to hydrate her. I guess the plan was to sober her up before returning home.

I made my way across the hall, and Adam spotted me first. He tapped Jesse on the shoulder and murmured something to him, and Jesse turned around, his tanned, handsome face for once not sporting a smile. Instead, it sported several beginnings of bruises, a cut across his cheek, and his usual lightening-white scar through his eyebrow. In a time of true confessions, Jesse had told me he had received it from a dog bite during childhood, putting an end to all my wistful fantasies of how it had happened.

"Hello, Susannah," he said – not in a cool tone, but not in his usual warm and welcoming voice. His faint Spanish accent was stronger than it had ever been, and I guessed he was still trying to control some of the rage he felt for Paul. I lifted a hand and swatted him across the face harshly. The surrounding guests barely noticed, however. Jesse raised a hand to his cheek, rubbing the sore skin. I hadn't hit him on his cut cheek, however. I was unsure if that was a conscious decision.

"That was for tainting my mother's rehearsal dinner," I told him tersely, and he nodded.

"I don't doubt that I deserved that, Susannah," he replied humbly. "But I think Paul deserves one too, somehow." I slapped him again.

"_You_ can have it," I said, now drawing more attention to us. I sighed, and rolled my eyes. "Look, I'm sorry for the second one. I'm just mad, you know?"

Jesse smiled sadly. "I understand," he said. "I think I'd been anyone to a bloody pulp who disturbed my family's happiness."

I returned the wan smile. "Do you… want to talk?" I asked him, gesturing to the window, where it was quieter. Jesse was the last person on my mental to-do list of reconciliations. I'd met with Kelly Prescott earlier, who had been invited to the dinner because of her parents, and made amends, suggesting that our high school rivalry should be forgotten in light of our separation in the fall. I'd also done the same with Debbie Mancuso, who hadn't quite understood the word "amends". I had had to revert back to kindergarten language for her to finally see what I meant.

And now, the final to-do, and I was standing face-to-face with him. His face looked so sad in the bright light of the reception hall, though his eyes were dry. He suddenly – as though hit with instant inspiration – smiled and stuck out his right hand. "Shall we just…put the past behind us?" he asked me, and I glanced down at his brown hand suspiciously. "Friends?"

Ah. _Friends_. Such a great-sounding word; so promising, so pleasant. So unrealistic. You could never be friends with an ex-boyfriend. The supposedly extinct feelings turned out to actually be dormant, and everything just got complicated. It was never my feelings that came back to haunt me, of course, it was always the guy's. Still, that was excruciating enough.

"Jesse," I said, shaking my head. "Do you have any idea what relationships are meant to be like?"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to not stick to the assigned plan?" he returned, meeting my eyes with a fiery stare. "Have you ever in life been a rebel, Susannah?"

I had to laugh. To hear Jesse say 'rebel' – which was of course, the way I'd always describe him, with his just-out-of-my-control hairstyle, and his untied shoelaces, and his untucked shirts that had stains in the weirdest places – was just too much. "We can't be friends," I told him. "But we can be…acquaintances."

"Acquaintances," Jesse repeated, testing it on his tongue. "I'll drink to that." He raised his beer bottle, as I raised my champagne glass, and we sipped our beverages in silence. But there was just one more thing.

"So," I said, breaking the quiet, cautiously. "What's going on with you and Ebony?" Jesse choked on his fresh gulp of beer, and spat it all back out unceremoniously back into the bottle.

"W-w-what?" he coughed, and I repeated the question. "Susannah," he said, eyeing me sternly. "_Acquaintances _don't share that kind of business with each other." Now he was just winding me up, making my own decision backfire on me. I growled, low and deep, and felt it vibrate in my throat.

"I knew it," I said. "I _knew _there had to be something going on there."

"Well it's not like _you _haven't moved on," Jesse replied, somewhat passionately, and I took a step backwards, as if trying to step out of the discussion that was becoming heated.

"Who says you weren't allowed?" I demanded, waving my champagne glass around wildly as I spoke, and ignoring the liquid that sloshed out of the glass and onto my high heels. "Did I _say _it was against the rules?"

"Ah yes, the rules," Jesse said, and the expression on his face was not showing he was fond of the memories he was recalling. "Susannah's rules. Number one, don't show emotion. Number two, don't have fun. Number three, never fall in love-"

"I was never going to fall in love with you!" I cried, and the congregation around us fell quiet again. I sighed, lowering my glass heavily and shaking my toes as another lot of champagne cascaded from my drink.

"Susannah-"

I took another step backwards, and the consequence cut Jesse off. As my foot hit the ground, it trod on the edge of a particularly long curtain, but he had not seen this as he had taken a step towards me, eager to finish his sentence. I lifted my foot up and looked over my shoulder to see what had tangled up in my heel, and as I did, I found the curtain rail was loose. It was like it was in slow-motion – what happened next. The gilded rail fell from its faulty supports towards the floor, taking with it the scarlet material hanging from it, covering both Jesse and I and plunging us both into darkness, and knocking us to the floor, somehow reminiscent of a fairly recent event involving a closet and my soon-to-be stepbrother.

"Oops," I whispered, and I heard Jesse snigger next to me. He was so close; I could almost hear his heart pump. _Thud-thud-thud._

I noticed now, once the initial shock had subsided, that I had grabbed onto Jesse's wrists in surprise as the curtain had crashed to the floor. I had a feeling that I may have screamed, too. What an embarrassment. I released Jesse at once.

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry."

"It's O.K," Jesse replied, and he reached forwards in the darkness to clutch my hands again. "It's fine…"

"Jesse…" I mumbled, and the next thing I knew lips were on mine, and I really only had one idea as to whom they could belong to. I shouldn't reciprocated, but I couldn't help sliding my hands around his neck and completely giving into the kiss – it was just like a scenario straight out of one of my mother's gasping romantic novels, but I wished with a passion it wasn't.

_Thud-thud-thud._

I wasn't sure if that was Jesse's heartbeat or my own.

But I was now knowingly entering into a whole new realm of confusion and misleading and god-knows-what-else and what I really should have been doing was pulling away and scolding myself – along with Jesse – for it, and then leaving the celebration immediately with my _boyfriend _– a.k.a _not Jesse _– and never speaking to this guy again. But it seemed like my lips and the rest of my body had detached themselves from my brain, and here I was thinking all this stuff yet none of it was actually happening…

And then Jesse broke apart from me, gasping for air and whispering apologies over and over again – some even in Spanish.

"_Nombre de Dios, querida, _I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me, it was just kind of instinct, you know-"

"Jesse," I said, trying to calm him down, but then the curtain was whipped off our heads, and I yanked my fingers away from Jesse's and looked up to see Paul grinning at me. He offered me his hand, which I gratefully took, and stood to face him. Jesse looked hurt, I was certain, but he didn't look surprised that I hadn't immediately confessed to Paul. I had to force myself to tear my eyes from Jesse and instead fixed them on the gorgeous movie-star-resembling form of my boyfriend.

_Boyfriend_, _Suze_. _Boyfriend._

"Aw, gee, Suze," Paul said, not looking at Jesse, who was still crouched on the floor, and instead wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. "I just can't take you anywhere without causing trouble, can I?" He kissed my neck for a second longer than he should have, obviously rubbing it in Jesse's face. Jesse however, didn't look bothered. Which I guess he shouldn't have, considering we had just made out underneath a curtain.

I had to give it to him, though. Jesse did pick the most creative places in which to kiss me.

"No, Paul," I replied, with one last bewildered look in Jesse's direction. "I guess you can't."


	13. Man and Wife

**A/N Thanks to everyone who reviewed. It really means a lot to me. This chapter is Part One of Two, I'm afraid its a cliffie, but it's really where it starts to get exciting - in my opinion anyway :-)**

**Dedicated to Megan - we're still alive:P**

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**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Oh Suze, you look gorgeous," swooned Cee-Cee, and together with Alyssa, Meghan and Fliss, she flocked around me, taking pictures with one of the disposable cameras meant for the wedding party, lights going off in my eyes – _flash-flash-flash_.

I was ready for my mom's wedding, in typical Suze-Simon fashion, half an hour early. My dress turned out to be perfect – the sickly sweet pink suiting the cheerful buzz that was spreading throughout my whole house. 99 Pine Crest Road had been dubbed "Bride Headquarters", whilst the yellow house on Randall Way was where Andy had spent the night – no doubt getting wasted on light beer and watching "Wheel of Fortune" with Willem on stolen cable television.

The dress was strapless; I knew this before I'd tried it on. My mother had provided me with a dedicated and metaphor-filled description once she'd plucked it from a catalogue and battled viciously on the phone (I taught her well) to have the prices reduced. Most of the exterior was silk, sewn across my body, with just a triangle on my right side which was beaded and sequined. It reached my ankles, and just at the edge poked out my matching satin shoes. My mother had insisted on a small tiara, which sat now on my head, forced into place by a million hair grips. I was slightly dizzy from the fumes of hairspray, but I kept putting my head out of the window to keep me stable. And for once, I had no idea what was going on in my mother's lilac bedroom.

Note to self: Check on Mom some time soon before we leave.

My friends were a vision in several pastel colours – Meghan in yellow, with matching accessories that gave the overall impression of a sunflower – in a nice way of course; Fliss in a light purple; Cee-Cee in baby blue; and Alyssa a gentle orange that contrasted gorgeously with her tan. Here they all were in my room, clucking like mother hens, each one adjusting a different part of my appearance.

"Guys!" I said, swatting Alyssa's hand away, which had been powdering my nose for about the sixth time. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."

"But, Suze," complained Meghan. "It's still half an hour before we leave. If I don't do _something _I'm gonna pee myself with boredom."

Fliss snorted, and went back to what she had been doing, which was preening herself instead me – something I was grateful for – and fluffing her candyfloss hair whilst pouting her lips.

"God, Fliss," said Alyssa, as she snuck a lipstick from my vanity table and began applying it. "Haven't you decided which one you look like yet? I've told you a million times, you are _Malibu _Barbie."

"Shut up!" cried Fliss, playfully, and Alyssa rubbed the colour of her lips with a Kleenex, deciding it wasn't her shade after all, despite the effort she had made trying to "secretly" stealing it from me. "I am not a Barbie doll, and you know it."

"Speak for yourself," said Alyssa, and she tried to ignore the smack Fliss had laid on her shoulder.

I sighed at my friends' childlike behaviour, and instead tossed one of my curls over my shoulder whilst analysing my appearance sceptically. My hair resembled pasta twirls, each lock twisting several times. It had taken Meghan one and a half hours with my straighteners to get it perfect. I ran a finger around my mouth to wipe the debris of Alyssa's messy make-up skills off, and tightened my left earring. I was just nervous, and there was nothing to do but fiddle.

"Um, Suze?" asked Meghan, and she began curling pieces of Cee-Cee's hair – against her will, I could tell by Cee-Cee's expression as she sat on the chair with her arms crossed sulkily.

"Mm?" I answered, eyes fixated on the silver charm bracelet my mother had bought me for being her maid of honour – as if the dazzling dress wasn't enough.

"Aren't you gonna check on your mom?" she continued, before gasping and sucking her finger, which was sporting a red mark after getting burnt by the appliance she was handling. "I mean, she is the one getting married after all."

"Oh, right," I said, and I hitched up my skirt and ran next door, where I could smell curling tongs and hair mousse. I knocked on the door three times – the signature knock to verify our gender, the house was strictly anti-male for the day.

"Come in!" I heard my mom's best friend Gaynor call. I pushed open the door, where I was greeted by the sight of my mom sitting on her large double bed, sucking on a cigarette and handling a glass of champagne miserably.

"Mom!" I cried, and she winced as Gaynor pulled her hair tight with the curling tongs. "You don't smoke! And even if you did, now is not the time. It'll get in your dress!"

"Honey, shut it," Gaynor offered unkindly. "It's your mom's big day, and she's nervous, no thanks to your it-never-works-out crap." My mother shot her a warning look.

"Oh, Susie," my mother said, and she pulled me in tight. I had to swerve my head several times to avoid the champagne glass and cigarette. "I'm so excited, but so nervous! And it has nothing to do with your cynicism, don't you worry." She patted me on the head and shot another set of daggers at Gaynor.

"Let me take that," I replied, and I prised the cigarette from her fingers and put it out on the ashtray sitting on her bedside table. "Do you want to smell like a bar on your wedding day?" I asked her, and I swiped her perfume from her chest of drawers and began spritzing her manically. She swatted away the fumes after about the hundredth, and wrapped an arm around me, sipping her drink delicately.

"Darling, darling," she said, shaking her head. "You worry too much. How am I going to cope without you when you go to college in just a few weeks?"

"Mom, I'll be really close-"

"No," my mother insisted, and she turned my head so she could look straight into my eyes. "You go to college to have fun, and I don't want you home until at least Christmas, you hear me?"

"I hear," I mumbled, and she kissed the top of my head. Gaynor finished the final curl, and sighed, satisfied.

"There you go, honey," she said to my mom. "You look gorgeous. And…" She looked at the clock besides the ashtray. "I think we're just on time!"

"Let's go get married!" I cried, and seizing my mom's hand excitedly and yanking her off the bed. My mother's gloved hand gripped mine worriedly.

"This is it," she stated, and she clung to me as Gaynor helped her slip into her shoes. "Me, married, for the second time. Married! I'll be…" She took a deep breath. "Helen Miranda Ackerman," she declared, happily.

"Or would that be Helen Miranda Simon-Ackerman?" corrected Gaynor, and my mom turned to look at me.

"Yes," she decided, finally. "It just wouldn't do to leave the Simon out of this, would it?"

* * *

"Oh my God!" squealed Meghan, and she made a point of grasping both Alyssa and I by the hand before the chauffeur opened the door of the town car. "This is it! This is it!"

"Meghan," Alyssa said, sternly. "For the last time, it is not you who is getting married."

"Let her be excited," I told Alyssa, rolling my eyes as if Meg was some little child. Originally, I was meant to arrive with the rest of the bridesmaids in a third town car, but my mother had insisted on so many of them that there was just no room – and I didn't really fancy being squashed up against Gaynor and her designer-impostor perfume.

"Is my lip-gloss O.K?" Meg asked, as the chauffeur appeared at the window. "I mean, I want my pictures to come out just perfect."

"I think I'm going to make sure that you aren't on any pictures whatsoever," Alyssa said, and Meghan huffed.

"You're just jealous that coral doesn't suit your skin tone," she concluded. Alyssa snorted.

"Obviously."

We continued to hold hands as we climbed out of the car, and made our way inside the church, and into the vestry where my mother stood fretting about her hair and her bouquet and everything under the sun that involved her wedding and the fact that she was about to walk down the aisle any second.

"Mom," I said, dropping Alyssa's fingers and taking my mother's instead. "It's fine. Just breathe with me, O.K? In, out. In, out..."

"Helen?" Meghan asked, timidly. "You look beautiful." My mother traced the shape of Meghan's heart-shaped face and smiled.

"Thanks, Meg," she said, and she suddenly straightened, and collected her bouquet from Gaynor. "It's time. I can feel it."

And right on cue, Pachelbel's Canon began, and I heard all of the wedding guests rise. Meghan gasped.

"We've gotta go!" she cried, and together with Alyssa, Cee-Cee and Fliss raced out of the vestry and into the church building. The first round of the music had ended, and the quartet were now well into their second – I was perfectly traditional when it came to this wedding, and this piece was the only one that had come to mind when I'd spoken to the quartet – and I smiled as I joined the rest of the bridesmaids in front of my mother.

"Good luck," I mouthed to her.

The large oak doors were pulled opened, and my eyes were pulled from the decorative ridges I'd been concentrating to distract me from the major event that was about to take place. I took a deep breath, and began down the aisle with Gaynor beside me. I searched the rows of people avidly for a familiar face – the face of my father, but my quest was in vain. Andy was waiting at the altar with a huge cheesy grin splattered across his face. There was something horribly cliché about this, but it was still nice to see my mother so happy.

I couldn't fault her fashion sense for today – it was impeccable. Whilst our bridesmaids' dresses pleased me immensely, her wedding dress was the one that took my breath away. It was pure white – which was a little ironic, as seeing as I was present at this wedding, it was pretty clear my mom wasn't as pure as the driven snow – and the spaghetti straps led to heart-shaped bustier which must have been decorated with thousands of tiny silver beads, and a long flowing skirt that reached the floor, and she had a filmy thing to wrap around her. Her own sparkly tiara also sported a thin veil, which had been pulled over her curled hair. She looked beautiful; like a princess finally completing her happily ever after. I had no doubt that there would be a wedding of some sort in her next novel.

"We are gathered here today," the priest began – who was, in fact, my former headmaster, Father Dominic – in typical priest fashion. "To unite these two souls in holy matrimony, Helen Simon, and Andrew Ackerman."

Whilst the ceremony proceeded, I scanned the crowd one more time for my father's face. I didn't spot him, but I found Paul in the third row, next to my friends, and he pulled a face. I feigned shock, and he laughed, silently. I smiled. His nose was really healing up after Jesse had broken it.

"I do," my mother said, suddenly jerking me from my silent conversation with Paul. I watched as she exchanged rings with Andy, eyes brimming with happy tears. I clapped, along with the rest of the congregation and tried not to cringe and Andy seized her and dipped her into a movie-star kiss. The guests "aw"ed and "ah"ed in all the right places, but I just shared another twisted expression with Paul.

"I now pronounce you man and wife!" squeaked good old Father Dominic. Everyone stood up and clapped enthusiastically, whilst my mother sniffed with ecstasy and wiped her eyes.

"Mascara!" I mimed, but she just waved a hand disinterestedly.

"Honey!" she cried. "I'm married! Isn't that great?" Andy clung to her hand protectively.

"Yeah, mom," I said, finally meaning it. "That's really great."

* * *

"Omigosh, Suze!" shrieked Kelly, and she pulled me into a bear hug like we had always been the best of friends. "You just look awesome! Are you wearing a wig? Or is that your real hair, 'cause I totally don't remember it looking like that before..."

I rolled my eyes, and excused myself from Kelly's overbearing presence, before making my way over to the girls, who were sat at a table merrily working their way through several bottles of champagne, with Paul sat in between them all looking a little freaked out. I threw myself onto a vacant chair and flung a hand out for a champagne glass.

"O.K," I said, surrendering. "_Now _I will have some champagne."

"Finally!" cried Alyssa, as Fliss thrust a glass into my hand enthusiastically. "God, you've been such a tight-ass about this wedding, it's about time you relaxed."

"A tight-ass with a _great _ass," added Paul, grinning. Meghan snorted.

"I swear, if this marriage doesn't work out, she's on her own for the next one," I replied, sinking into the cushioned back and sipping the drink slowly. "She can catch a flight to Las Vegas, because I am _not, _I repeat _not_, going through that ever again."

"The next one?" repeated Meghan. "What makes you think there's going to be a next one?"

"Love never works out," I said simply, and Paul choked out his champagne. Alyssa laughed.

"Oh, Paul," she said, gently patting his back. "Welcome to the ways of Susannah Simon – love stinks, love is underrated, and love never works out, right Suze?"

"Um, Suze?" asked Cee-Cee, before I could respond to Alyssa and a very confused Paul. "I think you'd better look at the stage."

Just when I had kicked off my shoes and began to relax, my whole world came crashing down. Because, of course, the band that Andy had chosen to play were all too familiar. Each wearing a thrift-shop tuxedo and Converse sneakers paired with them (a look that never really worked), the band members took the podium and began setting up. And then, they introduced themselves, but I didn't need an introduction. I knew exactly who they were.

One of them was my step-brother, for instance, and was wearing a huge, smug smile on his face as he looked straight at me, unashamed of the humiliation he was about to cause me. One of them was a drummer whose girlfriend used to date Brad. One of them was a bass player, who always got up last on a Sunday morning and was forced to do the laundry because of it. One of them was a keyboardist, who had offered me a cigarette within minutes of meeting me. And one of them was the lead singer and back-up guitarist, and, according to him, was my soul-mate.

"Hey, we're Dirty Bunch, and we're here to play for you tonight," said Jesse, into the microphone.

Can you say duh?

"I cannot believe this," I said, and Meghan sighed.

"Did you really think you would never see him again?" she questioned me, and I shook my head.

"No," I voiced. "I just thought that maybe I'd only see him far away."

"Do you want me to sort 'em out for you?" Paul offered, and he cracked his knuckles, climbing out of the chair.

"No," I said again, and I placed a hand on his chest to push him back in his chair. "No. There will be no fighting at my mom's wedding. I just need a cigarette."

"Here," said Alyssa, and she shook one out of the packet she kept in her purse. I laughed, and took the whole packet. She scowled.

"You owe a whole packet now, Suze Simon!" she called after me, but I ignored her and stepped outside of the reception hall, fumbling with the lighter she had also handed me. The flame shot up – brilliantly orange – and then my thumb slipped and it was gone. After several attempts, I roared in outrage.

I'd given up after Jesse and I got together – I'd told him from the very beginning that I wasn't a smoker, and I'd stuck to it. Now, when I was with Paul, the craving had just disappeared, and I hadn't felt the need to get nicotine into my veins. But I was under stress, and beginning to crack.

I slid down the brick wall, and crouched down, head in my hands. I wasn't crying, I just needed to give myself a few minutes to think, clear my head. I was so absorbed in my own depression I didn't hear the crunch of gravel before me. I didn't realise and look up until a voice made me jump.

"Are you O.K, kid?"

I looked up suddenly to see a man a little older than my dad, I guess, peering down at me, yet not looking concerned, like his words suggested he had been. Another man came up behind him, but I didn't think they were related. For one, the first man had a black moustache that looked a bit like he had a beetle hanging down from his nostrils, and his colouring and accent indicated he was Spanish. The other was milky-white, almost looking albino-esque.

"What's your name, kid?" The Spanish guy asked me.

"Susannah Simon," I answered, standing up and holding onto the wall behind me. "And you would be…"

The man didn't answer me straight away. Instead, he exchanged glances with his friend and muttered: "Pete's kid." I frowned, but before I could say anything, he replied to my question. "I'm Diego, Susannah. Felix Diego. Is your father around?"

"No," I retorted shortly. "He's meant to be here, but I haven't seen him. Can I take a message of some sort?"

Diego laughed – a dirty, hollow laugh – and shook his head. "No, kid, it's O.K. Go back inside and enjoy the party."

I hesitated for a second, but then turned my back and began to make my way back towards the hall, before I arm curled around my middle and I was yanked backwards and I saw the two faces I had been conversing with just seconds ago.

"What the-" I began, but my mouth was stuff with fabric and rope and I was aware of a choking sensation at the back of my throat. I tried to cough, but I was unable to. My wrists burned, and I saw that they had been bound with rope, as well as my feet, before I felt something brush my eyes and was plunged into instant darkness.


	14. The Villains

**A/N Thanks for reviewing - everyone! It really means a lot. Sorry it took me a couple of days to update, and I'm sorry this could be my last update for a little while. I'll try as hard as I can to update soon, but this year of school is really important. Please read and review!**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Fourteen**

You know in every story, when the plot is wearing a bit thin, suddenly the author slips in some kind of dramatic situation, something that makes all the audience gasp and stay involved until it's passed, just so that they know the character's fate? Personally, I'm a sucker for that part of the story, whether it's in a movie or a book. But I just never thought it would happen to me.

_**"What the-" I began, but my mouth was stuff with fabric and rope and I was aware of a choking sensation at the back of my throat. I tried to cough, but I was unable to. My wrists burned, and I saw that they had been bound with rope, as well as my feet, before I felt something brush my eyes and was plunged into instant darkness.**_

I kicked violently, bringing up a plume of dust in my face. The men released me – just for a second, whilst they coughed – and my heart leapt with relief, but then I was grasped again roughly before the possibility of escaping had even crossed my mind.

I managed to drop Alyssa's lighter down the front of my dress – a dangerous place to put it, I know, but it was the only option – and I felt it land in my bra. I released the cigarettes, and the packet fell to the floor. I heard them scatter everywhere, but Diego and his companion didn't flinch.

I couldn't scream for help – I could hardly breathe with the package I had inside my mouth – so I was helplessly dragged away from my mother's wedding, kicking out with all my might and swinging my arms as much as I could before Diego grabbed at one of them and twisted it agonizingly. I heard a rip, and a piercing pain rushed up my arm.

It was broken.

"Mmmmm!" I squealed out in distress, but I just felt a calloused hand slap my face hard, but I couldn't see the culprit because of the material they had tied around my eyes. I couldn't scrap at him as my arms were forced behind my back. My feet were subconsciously hurrying down the dusty path outside the reception hall, but I had no idea how one was being placed in front of the other. It was like my body had disconnected itself from my brain (yet again) and was acting of its own accord. I had even stopped fighting back.

My legs suddenly crippled, and I fell to the floor, dirtying my lovely bridesmaid dress in horror. I burst into tears but the liquid just came flowing back into my eyes as the bandage was wrapped so firmly around my head. My kneecaps burned as they hit the ground, and my armpits ached as I was hauled back up again and jerked along. I wondered if anyone had noticed I was gone yet.

_"Thank-you, ladies and gentlemen, we were Dirty Bunch, and now we're taking a break," announced Jesse, to a round of applause. "Congratulations to Andy and Helen, the happy couple."_

_He climbed off the stage, carefully handling his guitar, and met with his band-mates, who were recuperating at the front of the podium, deep in conversation._

_"So I say we do Polka Dot Banana: Part Two, Princess of the Moon, and then Jesse's stupid ballad to finish…" Jake was bossing everyone around, as usual._

_"Jesse's stupid ballad?" Jesse repeated, eyebrow raised. Jake jumped at the sound of his voice, and turned around to face the wrath of his lead singer._

_"No," he tried to excuse himself. "No, Jess, it's just-"_

_"Save it," Jesse offered rudely, and he turned to collect the bottle of water one of the waitresses had brought him. "Thanks," he added to her. He unscrewed the top and took a sip, relishing the soothing sensation he received at the back of his throat. Heaven. _

_"I'll be back in a minute," he informed his band, and he followed his gaze to one of the back tables, where a gaggle of teenage girls and one teenage boy – Jesse's pulse quickened angrily – sat, consuming several bottles of champagne._

_"O.K, dude," replied Willem, but Jesse was already distracted._

_He approached the destined table and noticed a vacant seat. He addressed a familiar face. "Where is Susannah?" he asked Meghan, who was swaying to no music and waving her glass around jovially. _

_"She went out to smoke," she answered, looking bored. "Can I take a message?" Jesse looked at Paul, whose glare was not one that would be considered inviting and friendly._

_"Smoke?" Jesse echoed confusedly. "Susannah doesn't smoke."_

_Paul snorted. "Sounds like someone's been bullshitting you," he explained. Jesse frowned. He scanned the room anxiously, and then ran outside to find his girl._

The next thing I knew was that I was being thrown down to sit on a hard wooden stool and the blindfold had been whipped off. My vision was blurry, at first, and the skin beneath my eyes a little stiff, after my tears had dried. I gripped the edges of the stool to steady myself, and then gestured for Diego to remove the stuff inside my mouth. I was _so_ fed up of being gagged.

Surprisingly, Diego obliged, and I was left panting and swallowing my own saliva to try and hydrate my throat.

"Water," I croaked, but Diego just threw back his head and laughed.

"Hey, Roger!" he yelled his friend. "The kid wants some water!"

I took this time of humiliation to observe my surroundings. The room looked like some kind of motel suite – but I know it couldn't have been. For one, I wasn't aware I had climbed any stairs, and two, there was no way these two guys could get away with sneaking a (blindfolded) teenage girl into a motel room. Or so I hoped.

The wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and the carpet was heavily stained, and the odour under my nostrils was reminiscent of overflowing drains and mothballs. I wrinkled my nose.

Roger came in from another room, with a mirthless chuckle that matched Diego's. "Kid," he said, in a gruff, gravely voice. "You've been kidnapped. Kidnapped people don't get water."

"Do you want me to die?" I asked them pointedly. "Because then you'll have the case of murder on your hands." Roger and Diego raised their eyebrows. "Do you want to be murderers?"

"Fine," Roger replied, and he threw me the bottle he was about to unscrew for himself. "But only one sip per hour."

"How many hours are you planning to keep me?" I questioned, my tone reflecting a confidence that sure wasn't present on the inside. Still, I could always negotiate a good deal with salesmen. Maybe this would be the same.

"As long as it takes!" roared Diego, and I shrank back into my chair. O.K, maybe there was a time for negotiations later. I exhaled, slowly, and began to prise each one of my terrified fingers from the stool. I couldn't panic. I just had to devise a sly and brilliant plan to escape and then everything would be alright…

Crap. I'd left my cell phone at home.

_Jesse hastened his pace, the rhythm of his steps becoming faster and faster across the reception hall. He threw the main door open, startling a few outside guests as it banged against the red brick, but raced inside again as there was no sign of Susannah._

_The back door, he though hurriedly, and he hurried athwart the laminate flooring, ignoring the strange stares he was getting from both his bandmates and Susannah's friends. They didn't understand his frenzy. Something was wrong, he could feel it._

_The back metal door swung open, and Jesse was temporarily distressed by the empty alleyway, before he spotted something on the ground. He had been about to turn away again and search elsewhere, until he spied a white packet of cigarettes in the dirt, its contents spilling out in a haphazard manner. He crouched to the floor and picked the empty box up, analysing the black lettering (Malboro). Jesse swept a finger over the unsmoked cigarettes on the floor, and came across two dips in the hard ground. Suddenly, his heart raced._

_Susannah had been here. And she did not leave happily._

_He dropped the cigarette packet at once, and sprinted indoors, looking for somebody who would listen. He dismissed Paul Slater and his gang of girls immediately, and made straight for the groom himself, who was discussing windsurfing with his best man._

_"Andy!" Jesse cried, and then he spluttered as he corrected himself politely. "Mr Ackerman, sir. I think something's happened to Susannah." Helen, who had been standing near, coughed into her glass of champagne._

_"Suze?" she asked. "What's wrong with Suze?"_

_"Nothing, honey," Andy assured her gently, and ushered Jesse into a quieter area of the hall. "What makes you think this, Jesse?"_

_Jesse took a deep breath before his words came spilling chaotically out of his mouth. "Susannah was meant to be…getting some air outside the back door, and I went to check on her, and there were two tracks in the dirt as if she'd dug her high heels in the ground and been dragged away…" He paused for breath, and Andy's face was anxious. He clapped Jesse on the back._

_"It's O.K," he said. "I'll…I'll just get my jacket and then we'll find her."_

_"I couldn't ask you to leave your wedding-" Jesse began, but Andy shook his head._

_"No," he argued. "Suze is my step-daughter now. She's my responsibility."_

_"Hey Jesse!" yelled Adam from by the podium. "Break's over, dude. Are you coming or what?"_

_"Sorry guys," he replied, shrugging. "I got a girl to see."_

_The two men whirled around and began to make their way out of the reception hall, when a strong hand was laid on Jesse's shoulder, tugging him backwards. He looked up to see Paul's face glancing accusingly from Jesse to Andy._

_"Where's Suze?" he asked, suspiciously. "Where are you guys going?"_

_"None of your business, Slater," snarled Jesse, but Andy was keener to get Paul involved._

_"Jesse thinks Suze has been kidnapped," he replied, and Paul snorted with laugher, as Jesse simultaneously grimaced._

_"Kidnapped?" repeated Paul, who was putting in no effort whatsoever to hide his grin. "You seriously believe that, Andy?"_

_"It's Mr. Ackerman to you, son," corrected Andy, and Paul's grin disappeared. Andy winked at Jesse. "Are you coming or not?"_

_"Fine, I'm coming," grumbled Paul. Jesse wrapped a mocking arm around him and squeezed around his neck just a little to make Paul panic._

_"That's the spirit," said Jesse, cheerfully._

"Are you even going to tell me why I've been kidnapped?" I asked, a little while after I'd been yelled at. "Or is there no reason? Where you guys just bored?"

"Yes," answered Diego, but Roger slapped a hand on his back, hard.

"No, idiot," Roger spat. He turned to me, eyes glinting maliciously. "We kidnapped you because you're Peter Simon's daughter."

"…and you're making a shrine to him?" I added. I guess my fear was making me say stupid things and try and be funny. Like humour was going to get me out of a situation like this. "With me as the main feature?"

"No," Diego said, and he drew something dangerously shiny from his pocket and thrust it in my face, the point narrowly missing the tip of my nose. "Because Peter Simon is in big trouble. Peter Simon owes us big money."

"Oh." I swallowed, eyes fixated on the knife just centimetres away from my face. It was so close I could see every detail of the metal – every edge of the blade, every tiny blemish on the material…and every remain of the blood stains. I swallowed again, trying to shift the terrified lump in my throat. No use.

"Peter Simon," Roger continued, and they were really winding up the bad-guy act now. "Has just two hours to come up with the money he owes us. Or _you _will be paying-" Diego moved the knife just a little closer to demonstrate the point. "With. Your. Life."

I think I must have made a noise somewhere between a cough and a whimper – because Roger and Diego exchanged suspicious glances. "Where is your _padre _anyway?" asked Diego, narrowing his eyes at me. "Did a runner back to New York?"

"I-I don't know," I admitted, truthfully, but the two men looked sceptical. "I – I haven't seen him for a few weeks."

"Aw, little Susannah's daddy doesn't love her," mimicked Roger in a high voice. "Little Susannah's daddy has left her to _die_."

"We'll see," I replied, my voice now beginning to shake. Was I going to die, and leave my mother's marriage in ruins from grief? Could I mar the lives of my friends with my unintentional death? Did I really want to leave the loose end that was Jesse untied?

It seemed I had no choice.

_"Is there anyway we could reach Susannah's father?" Jesse asked Andy, as the three ran down the sidewalk with no real idea of where they should be heading. _

_"He was meant to be at the wedding," replied Andy, grimly. "But there's been no sign of him."_

_Jesse's face dropped. Susannah could be anywhere, tied up in a barn somewhere, facing a death sentence. Or she could be dead already, and her body thrown into the water from Big Sur._

_Or… or she could be fine. Every bone in Jesse's body wanted to believe it, but he was reluctant to. It seemed unlikely that that would be happening._

_"She might have it written down somewhere where he was staying," Jesse found himself saying, suddenly hit by inspiration. "On a memo pad or something."_

_"Or in her wedding-planning clipboard," contributed Paul for the first time. "She…she has everything in her clipboard."_

_"Everything wedding-related," argued Andy._

_"It's worth a try," persisted Jesse, and Andy sighed. He whistled for a cab, and one arrived at the edge of the sidewalk swiftly. He hurried the two boys into the back seat first, and then climbed in himself._

_"99 Pine Crest Road, please."_

"I'm bored," declared Diego, and he looked at his wrist to find it bare. "Hey, Roger, how much longer do we have to wait?"

"Twenty minutes," answered Roger, and Diego yawned.

"I say we kill the runt now," he growled, and he twirled the knife precariously in a circle before my eyes. "I mean, he's not coming, is he?"

"Patience, Diego," ordered Roger, and Diego sank back into the stool opposite him. The wood creaked under his weight, but it held. Just.

Diego took the knife away from my face and examined it, turning it over and over in his hands. "Remember when we killed that mayor down in Texas with this knife, Rogde?"

Roger snorted. "It wasn't a mayor, Diego," he disputed. "Just a very…_very _rich man." His eyes gleamed hungrily, and I noticed a shiny gold ring on his finger for the first time. I wondered who he had killed for that.

"Fifteen minutes now, right?" Diego looked desperately at his colleague. "Till he's supposed to come and rescue her?"

"Fifteen minutes till we can kill her," corrected Roger, and Diego grinned. I observed that his incisors were brown and chipped. If I wasn't so freaking scared I would have gagged. I mean, toothbrushes didn't cost that much, and were sold everywhere. There really was no excuse.

Dad, if I die, I am _so _coming back to haunt you.

_"Wait here," Andy ordered the cabbie, and he left the door open once he'd climbed out. "We'll just be a second. Right, boys?"_

_"Right." Jesse nodded, and he pulled Paul by the arm down the driveway and by the front door, waiting for Andy to arrive with the key to the house. "So that means no sniffing Susannah's underwear, got it Paul?"_

_Paul scowled, and Andy leant between them to unlock the door. As soon as the wood gave way, Jesse was inside and as far away from Paul as he could be. He followed the well-known route to Susannah's bedroom – the most likely place her planner would be. It was unlike her to leave her possessions scattered around the house._

_As always, the carpet was vacuumed and the surfaces dusted, and the air smelt floral. The cushions on her bed were neatly organized, and her DVDs were on a shelf alphabetically ordered. Jesse grinned. You couldn't fault her._

_"I got it!" came a triumphant yell from downstairs, and Jesse's heart sank disappointedly. Paul had gotten his hands on the file first; he had edged just that inch closer than Jesse to saving her. Jesse thundered down the stairs and nearly collided with Paul at the foot, who was grinning arrogantly. Resisting the urge to throttle him, he followed him into the kitchen to meet with Andy._

_"Where did you find it?" Jesse asked. _

_"By the phone," Paul said nonchalantly. "Figured it made more sense than nosing around in her room." Jesse blushed, and watched from a distance as Andy flicked through the pages eagerly, eyes peeled for the bold lettering reading: _**Peter Simon**_. "There!" Paul cried, and Andy's fingers froze at a page near halfway through the large collection of florist's phone numbers and reception hall leaflets and everything else anyone could need to know about organizing a wedding. _

**Note to self: Post Dad's wedding invitation. Motel room 259, mobile number: 077-258-6…**

_The next couple of numbers were smudged, and Paul groaned as Andy acknowledged this out loud, but Andy brought his face closer to the illegible ink. "I think that's a 5…someone should try these numbers out-"_

_"Already on it," interrupted Jesse, as his fingers worked quick as he punched the numbers into the phone. The tone rang several times, before a female voice answered. Jesse hung up before speaking, and shook his head. "It's not a five," he said._

_"Try an eight," Andy urged, and Jesse heeded obediently. The phone was answered almost immediately._

_"Is that Peter Simon?" Jesse asked urgently._

_"Yes." The deep voice sounded suspicious. "Who is calling?" Jesse thrust a thumbs-up in the air jubilantly, and Paul and Andy reflected the gesture. Success._

I saw Roger's expression and all the blood stopped flowing in my body. It was time, it must be. The time had come for me to meet my death.

"So little girl," Roger began, pacing threateningly towards me. "Still convinced your daddy loves you?" I refused to answer. I was unsure of everything right now. Had _nobody _wondered where I had gone – why I had taken so long to 'smoke'? Some friends I had. Roger wandered away, bored.

"Which way would you prefer it?" asked Diego, and he dug both hands into his pant pockets. "Death by shot to the head, or by loss of blood from knife incisions?"

I gulped. If I really had a choice, I wouldn't be sitting on the stool right now. Diego's face loomed closer, his orange cat-like eyes glittering hazardously like the metal knife I knew could be slicing through my appendages any second now. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears and for everyone it seemed like it was counting down the seconds I had left…

"I say we play with her first," Diego said to Roger, and he examined the knife once more, as if to torture me. I could almost see my reflection in the shiny surface – a reflection I was sure wouldn't exist for much longer. Then he dangled the weapon nearer, and I watched it as it swung from side to side, and he stopped it. Still.

I felt the point pierce the skin on my cheek, and the trickle of blood run down my face to my lips. I stuck out my tongue, catching the liquid. It tasted like metal that was going to kill me.

Diego drew a line across my left cheek, as if he were a toddler playing with crayons. He even stuck out his tongue a little in concentration as I winced in pain. The blood was flowing in steady drips now. _Drip. Drip. Drip._

"Where to get you next?" Diego mused, mostly to himself, though he offered me some kind of warning for the coming pain. He moved to the base of my neck, tool poised, when a noise erupted from the hallway that made him jump, and the knife fell from his surprised hand and landed on the floor with a clatter.

_**Bang**_

The door to whatever place we were in was blasted open – or that's what the noise suggested anyway – and four sets of anxious footsteps followed before I heard Roger's clumsy footsteps come to inspect. I hate to say it – actually, it gives me great pleasure to say it – but Roger and Diego weren't the roundest buttons on the jacket, if you catch my drift. They really made terrible villains. I was almost ashamed to be held hostage by them.

A face leant around the doorway, and my mouth dropped open in shock. I tried to close it as quickly as possible, but Diego had already seen. He whirled around to see who had intruded, and jerked the gun from his other pocket, setting it up ready to shoot.

"Jesse!" I cried, warning him, though of course he had already spotted it, and he threw himself out of the room, out of range. Diego roared in frustration, and kicked his stool aside, before charging out of the room to deal with him, leaving me alone in the cold room.

"Jesse!" I shrieked again. "He's coming!" I heard a loud punch, and then saw Diego fall backwards through the doorway, his head fall to the floor with a sickening _thud_, and his eyes roll to the back of his head before his lids fell.

"Is he-" I began, but Jesse shook his head as he entered the room.

"Not dead," he answered my unfinished question, and he plunged into the unconscious Diego's pockets to retrieve the knife I knew so well. He ran to my side and got to work on my ropes as I heard various yells of anguish and celebration from the hallway.

"Paul, Andy and your father," Jesse explained, noticing my expression. "They sent me on ahead to come and sort out the damsel in distress."

"I am _not _a damsel in distress," I argued, but Jesse ignored me and took my face in his cupped hands, kissing me hungrily and fearfully. We broke apart hurriedly, and I looked worried.

"We'll sort everything out later," he said, in response to my face. "The important thing is that you're alive."

"For now," I grumbled, but the ropes fell to the floor, and I was free. I flexed my good wrist and ankles, feeling the rope burn on my skin. Jesse grabbed my hand and tugged me out of the room, where I saw for the first time my stepfather, my boyfriend, and my father fighting for their lives whilst trapped in a tussle with Roger, who had to keep brushing his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes – an advantage to my friends and family.

"Go," urged Jesse, gesturing towards the open door, where I saw the courtyard of the motel after all. I must have zoned out whilst I was being dragged up the stairs. "Get out. Now."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" I cried, and dodged out of the way as Roger slammed Paul into the wall next to me. "Oh my God, Paul!" I knelt beside my boyfriend, and found my fingers drenched in blood as I felt his stomach. "Oh my-"

"Go," Jesse repeated, and he hauled me up by my armpits. "Leave him!"

"This is my _boyfriend_!" I hissed. "Whether you want to believe it or not!"

"Suze…go…" muttered Paul, his eyelids fluttering. "I'm fine…_fine _…"

"Paul…" I said, squeezing his fingers. "Paul, I can't leave-"

Then I was whipped away, by Jesse's impatient and passion-led hands, and I hit the floor outside the motel room before I was properly aware of the situation. I sat up, my good hand touching the cold ground, and saw Jesse closing the door to number 258, mouthing "I'm sorry…I'm sorry.."

"No, Jesse, no!" I jumped up and slammed my good fist on the metal door. "Jesse!"

_Susannah was safe – and a weight lifted from Jesse's heart. She was outside, away from the danger. The girl he was in love with was alive – that part of his plan was complete anyhow. _

_"That guy's rousing!" yelled Andy, pointing towards Diego, who was beginning to sit up, and feel his surroundings. _

_"Get his gun!" shouted Peter, and Jesse's eyes followed before his feet did, to where Diego had clasped his fat fingers around his weapon and was gently fingering the trigger._

_"You mean this gun?" he asked, waving the silver in the air. "Pretty, don't you think?" He held it properly, and took an aim at Jesse. "You first, kid?"_

_"Leave the kids alone!" roared Peter, and he lunged at Diego._

_"No!" Andy and Jesse cried in unison, gazes stuck on the action between Diego and Peter, leaving Roger to sneak up behind Andy with the knife Jesse had cast aside once Susannah was outside._

**Bang**

_Peter was blasted off of Diego's body, his shoulder a bloody mass, and Diego looking triumphant. Susannah's father lay on the floor, deadly immobile. Jesse twitched to move towards him, but Diego swung the gun to point at Jesse. He froze, and threw up his hands in a surrendering gesture. _

_"I won't move," Jesse said, hurriedly. "Just… is he O.K?"_

_Diego kicked the body. "Nah. He's dead. Not moving, is he?"_

_Jesse didn't say anything and Diego gestured with the gun for him to crouch on the floor. He was shaking – every bone in his body scared to death – and his usual warm skin cool. Andy made a gagging noise, causing everybody to snap their heads in his direction._

_Roger had Andy with his hands behind his back and knife held to his throat. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and a red circle was forming where the point was pressed into the skin._

_"Andy, I'm sorry, this is all my fault," I croaked, and Diego sniggered._

_"Huh, funny it should come down to this-"_

_The door flung open for the second time, and Jesse was kicked aside by the corner of the door, and he lay flat on his face, still. Andy hung his head. He was the last one left._

_And then a voice rang through the silence that gave him hope._

_"Hey, guys." It was Susannah, her broken arm wrapped roughly in some material. "I brought some friends. You can just call them the police."_


	15. Accident and Emergency

**A/N A fairly quick update, yes? Sorry it's just a filler, but I couldn't just carry on with another part of the plot, could I? I had to keep you all waiting! Hopefully there will be another one soon - this one was finished quicker than I had thought, so maybe you'll get another on Sunday! Fingers crossed. **

**Thanks for all my reviews so far. I love you guys!**

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**Chapter Fifteen**

To say that Jesse was relieved when I appeared in the doorway would have been an understatement. He looked as if he was going to pass out – I wasn't sure if that was from the shock, or just the sight of me saving the day – and he was red in the face and sweaty. The police got to work immediately to arrest Diego and Roger, who had dropped their weapons instantly. I dropped to the floor to attend to both Jesse and Paul, who were almost unconscious.

"It's O.K," I said, clenching their hands. "The paramedics are on their way. You're both gonna be alright."

"Is De Silva still there?" mumbled Paul, squinting at me. "Playing the hero? 'Coz you know, I totally would have taken them all down if it wasn't for the damn knife-"

"Ssh," I said soothingly. "I had complete faith in the both of you. Thank you so much for saving me. I wouldn't be alive right now if you hadn't."

"It was my idea," Jesse croaked, and I stroked his forehead with one gentle finger. "All my idea… I noticed you were gone…"

Then both of the boys succumbed to their urges to sleep, and closed their eyes simultaneously, leaving me with one hand on Paul's leg comfortingly, and Jesse's whole hand wrapped around my pinkie finger on the other hand. I released myself from the Suze sandwich, when something else caught my eye.

"Oh my God," I whispered, racing towards my dad, who lay completely unconscious, and the wound in his shoulder weeping and bleeding messily. "Dad," I said, shaking him – not sure if I should, but couldn't help it. "Dad, come on, wake up. Wake up! Wake up!"

A hand rested on my shoulder, and my heart skipped a few beats, believing it was Diego or Roger coming back for – even though I'd seen them dragged through the doorway by the cops just a few minutes ago. I jumped and turned around, only to see my stepfather standing above me, looking grim.

"Sorry to scare you, kiddo," he said, squeezing my shoulder. "But leave him, Suze. The paramedics will be here soon, and there's nothing you can do." I moved my hands swiftly to feel for a pulse, which was there, racing. I dropped my father's hand and wrapped my arms around my stepfather's waist – a gesture that surprised both him and me. He patted my head, unsure of what to do.

"Thank you for saving me," I sobbed into his leg, causing his rented tuxedo pants to get wet. "I'd…I'd be dead by now, if you hadn't come, and my m-m-mom would have never gotten over it and Jesse-"

"You mean Paul?" Andy corrected me. "Isn't Paul your boyfriend now?"

I sniffed. "Right. Yeah."

"Jesse, however," Andy continued conversationally. "Was the one who told me you had gone missing. He's a great boy, Suze. He's the real hero."

I didn't say anything – I just mulled over my thoughts in silence. It seemed impossible that only an hour and a half ago I was sitting with my friends surrendering to the lure of champagne and freaking out over my stepbrother's bandmates. Now Jake's bandmate was lying on the floor of a disgusting motel room, gravely injured. I felt like crying again, but I didn't. Instead, I wiped my eyes and released my stepfather – something I think he was grateful for, although he didn't voice it.

"Are you Susannah Simon?" A friendly voice suddenly interrupted the father-daughter-father moment that was slowly becoming awkward anyway, and Andy and I turned around to see a paramedic in the doorway of 258, carrying a first aid kit, with his colleague close behind him. "You called 911?"

"That's me," I replied, and I got up so that they could see my dad lying still on the floor. "This is my dad." I gestured towards Jesse and Paul. "And they are my friends."

"Jeesh, kid, what happened to them?" the first paramedic questioned me, as he leant down to sort out Jesse and Paul. His colleague rushed past him towards my father, ricocheting so fast that I felt the rippled air tingle on my skin.

"A freak accident," I decided to tell them. It was the only way I could put what happened into words, anyway. "The police have just arrested the bad guys, don't freak."

"I wasn't about to _freak_," said the paramedic, who told me his name was Tim. "It's just for the records."

"Oh." I noticed Tim was kind of young – maybe only several years older than me. "Hey, Tim?" He looked up from where he had been cleaning Paul's wound. "Did it take you long to become a paramedic?"

"A few years of hard studying," Tim replied with a shrug. "Why? Do you want to be one?"

"No," I replied, my eyes on Jesse, who laid still, though his perfect eyelashes were fluttering. "I just know someone who does."

"We'll have to take them in," Tim said, addressing his colleague, who was bandaging my dad's wound with temporary material. "And you," he added, turning back to me. "For the shock. And those cuts on your cheek."

"And my arm," I continued, cradling my elbow in the palm of my other hand. "I broke it. Or rather, the guys the police arrested broke it for me." Tim's mouth dropped.

"You broke your arm?" he repeated, and shifted over to examine it tenderly. "You sure haven't been complaining."

I shrugged. "I'm a tough cookie. Besides, I figured there were lives at stake, that needed saving."

Tim smiled. "You're a brave kid, Susannah."

"Suze," I said, helping him support Paul's heavy body. "Nobody calls me Susannah. I like to be called Suze."

* * *

I sat in an uncomfortable chair – made from plastic, if that gives you any idea just how awful it was – inhaling the sickening hospital slowly. It wasn't much better if I breathed through my mouth, either.

I'd been taken to the police station first, once Tim had roughly sorted out my arm, to answer questions about Roger and Diego. I gave descriptions and an account of the events – though, of course, I'd been thrown outside during some of it – and was thanked for my efforts. Andy was questioned too, and his story matched mine. The cops were satisfied, and let us go.

We were then hurried to hospital, where I was told – whilst my arm was being X-rayed – that my dad was in surgery to remove the bullet from his shoulder bone, with a risk of being paralysed down one side, and Jesse and Paul were just resting, after being cleaned up and supplied with painkillers. My cuts were sewn with dissolvable stitches, and the scar would be minimal, if any. Andy was just treated for shock – as he had no injuries at all – and we were left to linger for my dad to come out of surgery in the waiting room.

"It's going to be O.K," Andy reassured me, squeezing my hand. "Your dad is going to make a full recovery, you'll see."

I squeezed back, a little unsure of this new stepdaughter-stepfather bonding that had come from the tragedy, but grateful for it nonetheless. It made waiting for the news that could ease the knot in my gut, or twist it even more, easier. It wasn't enjoyable. But easier.

"Susannah Simon?" A voice interjected my worries. I looked up to see a heavily made-up nurse peering down at me. "Are you the daughter of Peter Simon?"

"Yes," I croaked, anticipating her next words. _I'm sorry, Miss Simon, but your father has passed away. I'm sorry, Susannah, but your father is currently in a comatose state…_

"The surgery was only partially successful," the nurse replied, and my heart jolted, bile rising in my throat. "The doctors managed to remove the bullet from his shoulder, but a lot of cartilage and bone was smashed away by the force of the bullet, and he may only have little feeling in his left arm because of this. He's resting in recovery at the moment. Would you like to see him? He won't be awake for another hour yet though, when the anaesthetic wears off."

"I'd love to see him!" I jumped up, releasing Andy's hand. I turned around to speak to him. "Do you want to come with me?"

Andy shook his head. "No, kiddo," he said. "He's your father. You need to see him in private." I smiled gratefully, and followed the nurse to the recovery room, the _beep-beep-beep_ of the heart monitor getting louder and louder.

"Here you go, Miss Simon," the nurse said, opening the door for me to my dad's secluded ward. "Visiting hours finish at six, so you have plenty of time." I looked at the clock above my dad's head. It was three-thirty. The party should be finishing soon, and my mom would be preparing for the disco tonight. Andy had called her almost immediately after the police station, were she had demanded she speak to me. I had to hold the phone away from my ear as she squealed in relief.

The door closed, and I took his hand, my ears trying to block out the steady _beep-beep-beep _of the heart monitor. I stroked his hairy fingers, and looked curiously at how his shoulder had been bandaged and heavily cushioned. A faint red tinge was still visible through the package. I sighed.

"Hey Dad," I said. "It's me, Suze. I'm not sure if you can hear me, being unconscious – I know when I had my tonsils out in fourth grade I couldn't hear anyone whilst I was still unconscious… but I just want to say I love you. You didn't have to save me, but you didn't. You almost _died _for me." My voice cracked. "I love you." I leant down to kiss his hand. "I love you, Dad."

A heard a soft knocking at the door and turned my head to see Andy there, waving. I beckoned him in, and he pulled a chair up the other side of my dad's bed. "Jesse's awake, honey," he said. "I can look after your dad if you want to go and see him."

"What about Paul?" I asked. Andy was watching the red lines on the screen of the heart monitor interestedly. "Is he awake?" He shook his head.

"Not yet, Suze," he said. "But it could be any minute now."

"Thanks," I said meekly, and I traipsed out of the room, dropping my father's fingers one at a time. "Come and get me if he wakes up?" Andy nodded, and I walked slowly to where Jesse and Paul were, unsure of what I could really say to Jesse now he was awake and safe. _Hey Jesse, thanks for saving my life, but we really need to stop kissing. I'm going out with Paul, remember? _Not sure how well that would go over, especially if Paul woke up mid-sentence.

I pushed the door open to the ward, where Jesse and Paul lay – Paul still asleep, of course – along with about three others, who were watching TV or otherwise occupied. A smile broke out across Jesse's face as I entered the room, and I sat down on his bed. "Hey," I said. It seemed to be a good idea to begin with that.

"Hey," he echoed, and sat up to stroke my cheek. I pulled away, and pushed his hand back.

"Jesse," I complained, nodding my head towards Paul. "You forget."

He ignored this. "How are you feeling, _querida_?" he asked. My heart flipped at the slipped-in Spanish, and I scolded myself. Bad Suze. Very bad Suze.

"I'm O.K." I held up my arm – which was now in plaster – as much as I could. "But what about you? I mean, you hit the wall pretty hard, not to mention the number of times you got beaten up before that."

"Susannah, your arm!" he cried, dismissing my comments for the second time. "Is it broken?"

"Yes," I replied, impatiently. "Diego and Roger did it when they kidnapped me." I winced on the word _kidnapped._ It sounded so pathetic, so weak.

"You never said a word," Jesse said tenderly, running his calloused fingers down the cast and making the tips of my fingers tingle. "All the time we were in that room alone and you never complained."

"Well, it seemed a little trivial when our lives were at risk," I pointed out. "And besides, you were kind of kissing me…and then you threw me out."

"Your life was never in danger, Susannah," Jesse told me. "We would have never let that happen." I caught his fingers as they ran down my hand. I remained silent, not really knowing how to reply.

"Promise me one thing," Jesse said, as Paul began to stir beside him. My eyes flitted to my boyfriend, and I dropped Jesse's hand nervously. "Susannah?" My attention was pulled back to him.

"Yes?" I asked, distracted.

Jesse grinned. "Can I be the first to sign your cast?"

I smiled back. "Of course," I said, cradling my cast protectively. "I will guard it from everybody until you mar it with your disgusting handwriting. Happy?"

"Very," Jesse replied. "But my handwriting is not disgusting. It's artistic."

"Whatever." I moved beds to sit at Paul's feet, and watched as his eyelashes fluttered, and his lids finally lifted. I took Paul's fingers and kissed them. "Wakey wakey, sleepy head."

Paul smiled stupidly – a Morphine-induced smile, no doubt – and put my hand on his ribcage above the covers. "Sixteen stitches," he told me proudly. "Knife cut quite deep."

I cracked a smile. "That's…great?" I said, figuring this might what he wanted to hear. Jesse snorted, and then began to twiddle his thumbs and whistle at the ceiling when I shot him a pointed look. "Listen, Paul-"

"You aren't going to give him the 'thanks for rescuing me' talk, are you?" Jesse interrupted, causing me to glare at him again. "Because I was the one who noticed you were gone. Paul just figured you were still outside smoking cigarettes."

"-I'm sorry you got hurt," I finished, and Jesse rolled his eyes. "It's all my fault."

"No…Suze, it's not," Paul argued, and he beckoned for me to hug him. "It's not your fault at all. I'm just glad you're O.K. I'm the one who should be sorry – I didn't even know that you had disappeared." Jesse gave me a 'what did I tell you?' look, and I ignored this.

"Suze," Andy's voice greeted me again. "Your dad's awake – earlier than expected. He wants to talk to you."

"Sure," I replied, and I stood up, blowing a kiss to Paul and narrowing my eyes at Jesse. "I'm coming. Bye, guy…s."

I followed Andy back down the corridor, our loud footsteps echoing the pace of my nervous heartbeat. He was alive, he was awake, he was waiting for me to say everything again…

"Go on in, Suze," Andy said, and he held the door open for me. I wandered inside, and was met with my dad, who was smiling wearily, but looking a lot older than he ever had… and had more stubble than ever too.

"Hey, Susie," he said, eyes crinkling as he grinned at me. "Thank God you're alive."

"Thank God _you're _alive!" I gushed, and I ran to hug him tightly in a rush of emotion and affection for him. He winced as I squeezed him. "Oh, oh, sorry, sorry!"

He turned the cartoons (yes, cartoons) he had been watching off, and looked at me warmly. "Are you O.K?"

"I'm fine – just my arm is broken," I said, conversationally, before adding hurriedly "But there was nothing you could have done about that, don't worry." I took his hand. "Thanks for coming after me."

"Are you kidding me?" My father looked ashamed. "It was because of me that you were taken in the first place – me and my stupid money problems. I'm so sorry, Susie, really."

"It's O.K," I said. "Just it might be a better idea next time to let a bank handle your financial situations." He nodded, smiling slightly. "Can I ask you something, Dad?"

He looked up in surprise. "Of course, Suze," he answered, clutching my fingers. "Anything. Shoot."

"O.K." I looked down at our identical hands – his a little larger, of course, but with the same skin tone. "Why weren't you at Mom's wedding?"

My dad dropped his head. "I was trying to get my hands on the money I owed those guys – it was due yesterday. But I had no idea they were going to kidnap you like that, or that my deadline had been extended. Heck, I didn't know how they followed me to California!"

I exhaled shortly in light amusement, and twisted our fingers together. "But it won't happen again," he assured me, watching me rearrange our grip. "_Ever _again."

"I trust you, Dad," I replied, and then finally wound up to say what had been building up inside me, now that he was awake. "I love you."

My father's eyes narrowed. "Are you becoming a Daddy's Girl?" he asked me, and I pulled away from his hand.

"Oh God, no!" I cried, in mock horror, and he laughed. "Nothing like that."

"That's my girl," he said, reaching out for my hand again. "You won't ever change for any man, will you Susie?"

I scoffed. "As if."

"Now there's only one question left," he continued, gazing longingly at the door.

"Yes?" I asked, though I was pretty sure I knew was it was.

"Do you think they'll let me out of the goddamn place in time for the disco tonight?"


	16. Peanut M&Ms

**A/N Eh, eh? Didn't I tell you I'd get another update out this weekend? And all written within one day, too. Personally, I love this chapter. But then, I love most chapters. Disclaimer - I do not own the concept of "Huffah" though I'd much love to, nor do I own Sarah Dessen's _This Lullaby _or Meg Cabot's _The Mediator_.**

**Dedication - to xoxdefygravityxox. Or Katie. Whatever :P Here's something to cheer you up, after all your work was lost. I hope it makes it just that little bit better.**

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**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Sixteen**

"Ah," Jake said, as he pulled the front door open for me, marker pen in hand. "Here comes the cripple, at last."

"I am _not _a cripple," I argued, and I swung my arm out of the way as much as I could, dodging his pen. "I just have a broken arm. And I wasn't in hospital last night. I slept over Meghan's."

"Leave her alone, Jake," Andy added, coming through the door behind me, carrying my nightcase – which my mother had insisted he carry, instead of me. I poked my tongue immaturely.

"Why won't you let me sign your cast?" Jake asked, as I slinked past him into the living room to watch TV. "Are you going to keep it squeaky clean like a neat-freak, or are you waiting for your precious Paul to sign it?"

I blushed. "Neither, actually," I told him truthfully. "I just don't want X-rated pictures drawn on to it by my perverted stepbrother."

Jake scowled, and followed me into the living room, snatching the remote from me as he passed. "Hey," I said, scrabbling for it. "I was watching the news." I gestured towards the TV, where some grey-haired guy was giving a report on an outbreak of My stepbrother rolled his eyes.

"Of course, Susannah Simon would be watching the _news_," he scoffed, and he turned it over to Cartoon Network. "Your life is like one big news report, right? Any minor change has to be checked and examined first?" I chose to ignore this.

"Whereas your life is just like an episode of _Ren and Stimpy_?" I retorted, as the cartoon characters chased each other across the screen. "Which one are you – the one with the blue nose, or the one with the bloodshot eyes?"

"Both," my stepfather interrupted, as he passed through the lounge on the way to the kitchen. "Isn't that right, Jake?" His son didn't reply.

"Shut up, Suze," Jake said, sinking back into the armchair and closing his eyes. "Just watch the cartoon or go away."

"Seeing as I'm the 'cripple'-" I used quote marks in the air. "-shouldn't I get control of the T.V?"

"No," Jake replied. "Because you're a _girl _cripple."

I scoffed. "Sexist pig," I spat.

"Anal retentive," he shot back. I got up from the sofa, and went into the kitchen, where Andy was beating eggs for an omelette. He smiled when he saw me, and I returned it over the glass of Cola I was pouring.

"Hey, kiddo," Andy greeted me warmly. "Did you have fun at Meghan's last night?" I had left the hospital yesterday and returned home for a quick shower and gussying up session before I left for the disco. I decided I'd crash at Meg's to give the newlyweds some privacy. I couldn't stay at my dad's – the hospital staff had decided there was no way in hell that he could leave that night.

"Yeah, I guess," I replied. "She's still a little upset over Kenny."

Andy nodded knowingly. "You need to set her up with another guy," he informed. "I mean, it's been a month now, since he broke up with her?"

I agreed. "Another guy?" I echoed. "Why? So that _another _one can break her heart?" Andy shook his head.

"No, Suze," he said, exasperatedly. "You need to believe in love, sometimes. This new guy could make her happy, have you ever considered that?" I pondered on that fact for a second. The same message was pouring out of various people's mouths – trust love. Believe in love. Fall in love. It was a bunch of crap.

Wasn't it?

"Have you been speaking to my mother about this?" I asked him, eventually. Andy laughed, and shrugged. "Where is she, anyway?"

"At work," Andy replied. "She's just 100 pages off her finished novel now." I noticed how proud he sounded as he proclaimed this, and I sighed. _He _was in love with my mother, the type of love I only thought possible in my mom's books. God. I was as if someone was paying all the people in my life to try and get the concept of love through my skull.

"I see." I drained my glass of cola. "I'm going to my room – do you want me to call Jake and see if he'll help you with your omelette. Andy smiled sadly.

"No," he said. "Jake wouldn't help if I paid him. Cooking's just not his thing. Hey, Suze-" He stopped me before I was halfway through the doorway, and opened a nearby drawer. "Here." He threw me a yellow packet that clacked slightly as it landed in my palm. I looked down at it – peanut M&Ms. I smiled. "You told me they were your favourites," he added. I nodded, gratefully, and tore them open as I climbed the stairs.

I could smell the floral scent of my air freshener as I reached the top of the stairs, and found my nightcase in the doorway of my room. Andy had yet to learn that I hated things blocking my entrance, but he was still a beginner at being a step-dad, after all. I picked up my nightcase and opened it on my bed, dropping my items of clothing into the laundry basket, and carrying my toiletry items into the bathroom, rinsing my toothbrush under the tap before dropping it into glass on the back of the sip.

I then ran a finger around the rim of the bath, to find in disgust that it was grimy. How had I managed to get so grimy? I searched my cupboards for the cleaning chemicals, and spent the best half of the next hour cleaning my bathroom – though it took longer than usual due to my injury. Then I moved into my room, where the shelves and the windowsill were dusty, and my floor unvaccuumed. After correcting this, it was 2:00pm, and I heard the dishwasher downstairs churning as it cleaned the plates that Andy's omelette had obviously been devoured on. I collapsed onto my bed – not particularly hungry, though satisfied at my now cleaner bedroom – and looked at the ceiling. There were several cobwebs in the corners of the room, but I was too exhausted to do anything about it for the time being. I fingered the corners of my bedside table, popping in M&Ms one by one and chewing thoughtfully.

How could I have managed to become so disorganized? My underwear drawer was in such disarray that I had nearly fainted as I pulled it open to put away clean laundry. My secret stash of money was in a haphazard state – the bills forced away and stuffed in. It was ridiculous. Even my vacuum cleaner was dusty! It was like I had been living in a completely different world when I had dated Jesse, and then carried on when I had gotten back with Paul. I threw my empty chocolate packet into the trashcan – making sure it actually went in – and then got my jacket from my wardrobe.

There was only one remedy to the feeling I felt: boys.

X

"That was a really crap film," Paul decided, as the credits to _Never Been Kissed_ came up on screen. "I mean, there was no violence in that. At all."

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, snuggling up to his side. "That is like one of the best films ever. Isn't Drew Barrymore cute before she lost all her puppy fat?"

"I liked her in Charlie's Angels," Paul retorted. "She was hot."

"Puh-lease," I said, pressing stop on the remote. "If you want hot, don't look any further than Sam Coulson. I wish Junipero Serra had English teachers like him."

Paul looked a little put out by this, and I couldn't blame him. I'd spent the last hour and a half or so drooling over the guy in this movie. I cuddled up even more to him and kissed his lips gently. He winced as my hand moved swiftly over his healing wound, and I kissed him again in apology. "Sorry," I whispered, in between kisses. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"It's O.K," Paul decided eventually, and he kissed the top of my head. "You wanna go out somewhere tonight?"

"Already?" I asked him, glancing at the clock. "It's only like, 7:00pm."

"We could meet up with some of your friends," Paul suggested, nestling his mouth further into the top of my head. "Or my friends…like Brad, or-"

I groaned. "Not Brad," I pleaded. "I'm totally fed up of my stepbrothers. My nights out are like, my only escape from my crazy, crazy family."

"Aw, babe," Paul said, his mouth slowly snaking down to my ears. "They're not all crazy. I mean, your step-dad's kind of normal, right?"

I mock-punched him, and stared at the blank television screen. "I tell you what." I came to a conclusion. "We'll go on a double date." Paul looked confused, so I elaborated. "I mean, you bring a friend. I bring Meghan. We eat food, and talk about stuff. Are you familiar with the concept of double-dating at all, Paul?"

Paul exhaled shortly. "_Duh_," he replied. "It's just you never wanted to double before." I leant my head against his shoulder.

"Meghan needs it," I explained. "The thing with Kenny is still bumming her out."

"Still?" Paul repeated. "God, you chicks are so sensitive." I huffed in protest.

"Number one," I informed him, sternly. "I am _not _a chick. And number two, Meg thought she and Kenny were going to get married. She was completely in love, and she got hurt."

Paul rolled his eyes, and sat, putting his hands on my leg to steady himself. "O.K," he said, surrendering the discussion. "A double-date it is. Is one hour enough time for you girls to get ready?"

I was actually quite content with the way I looked – having dressed up to visit Paul – and it was only Meghan who needed glamming up. I took to her house my bag of make-up, and my hair appliances, and worked my magic – turning her from couch potato who was lounging around in sweats to double-date queen, in high heels and a short skirt, which she kept pulling at.

"Are you sure you can't see my ass?" she asked me, for about the fiftieth time as we made our way to my car. "I mean, it's so short!"

"I'm _sure_," I said, already fed up of the words. "Now will you stop fussing? I am taking you to a date, not a college interview."

"I'd rather take the college interview," Meghan said miserably, though she corrected her expression when she saw my face.

Paul had promised he could make us last-minute reservations anywhere with his father's name, so I hadn't worried too much about what I could eat that was low-fat. But when we all met at the Mission, we informed us that the only place he could get us into was the local diner, and I inwardly groaned.

I managed to convincingly pick at my soggy chicken salad, and rearrange the leaves so many times that it looked mostly eaten, and must have eaten at least twenty breadsticks to fill my stomach. Paul's friend was in fact his cousin, Drew, who was a few years younger and totally cute, but Meghan was soon put off his interests in environmental law and his passion for biology. It was mostly up to me to keep the conversation flowing, but I turned out to be the one person who Drew decided to inform that his last girlfriend thought Chicago was a borough of New York, and California was the name of the President.

"Wow," Meghan hissed in my ear, once Drew had disappeared to the bathroom, and Paul had gone in search of the bill. "Drew's a nerd. A _sixteen-year-old _nerd, Suze. What kind of a double date did you take me on? Am I being punk'd?"

"No," I told her sharply, and spotted Paul out of the corner of my eye. "I'm sorry, O.K?"

"It's O.K," Meghan grumbled, and we climbed out of the booth in time to greet Paul.

"All paid for," Paul informed me, and he wrapped an arm around my waist protectively. "Are we ready to go, ladies?"

We nodded, and waited for Drew to reappear, before we got into Paul's Mercedes. I had left my car at the Mission, after Paul had insisted we all drive to the diner together. That was one of the things I hated about Paul. He made the decisions – he chose the dessert we shared, or what movie we watched in the movie theatre. I slid into the back seat with Meghan, who had refused back in the diner to go home side by side with Drew.

"You owe me Skittles for life," she told me, as she climbed in behind me, her knees banging against mine as she landed on the leather seat with a _bump_. "A packet a day should suffice. Maybe two packets on my birthday, and at Christmas."

"Gas-stop," said Paul, apologetically, barely five minutes down the road. "I'm nearly out. Do you mind?" he asked me. I shook my head. "I'll buy you guys something nice in the shop." I felt like a demanding toddler when he said this. "Meg?"

"Skittles," she replied, abruptly, with a humorous glance in my direction. Paul looked at me expectantly.

"M&Ms." I was already having a bad day, food-wise. One more sin wouldn't hurt. Especially when it was peanut-butter-flavoured, and chocolaty. Mmmm…

"O.K." Paul got out of the car with Drew, and headed into the shop whilst Drew filled up the car with gas. I watched my boyfriend's figure slowly get further and further away, thoughtful.

"Oh no," Meghan said, looking at me. "I know that expression. Not again. Not Perfect Paul." I sighed.

"Déjà vu, much?" I asked her. "Seems like only yesterday we were having the exact same conversation."

"Wow." Meghan looked pensive. This was never particularly good. "It was two whole months ago. More than that, even. Why now? You still have a good fortnight left until you leave for NoCal."

"I'm not sure," I replied, still watching Paul as he picked up not one – but two – packets of candy each for both Meghan and I. "It just seems like the right thing to do."

"Was it the crappy date?" Meghan questioned. "Because, you know, it was pretty crappy."

"It wasn't the date."

"Then what is it? I thought we had come to the conclusion that Perfect Paul was indeed perfect again."

"He is," I interrupted, and Meghan's mouth suddenly dropped in shock.

"Oh my God!" she cried, pointing at me. "You still like-"

But Meg's claim was interrupted with a loud bang, and a plume of smoke that rose into the air circling, accompanied by coughing and spluttering. Both Meghan and I poked our heads out of the back window, curiously. The smoke soon cleared, and our queries were answered.

"It's Jesse!" I hissed, and I yanked Meghan's head back inside the car, and crouched down so he couldn't see me. Not that I think he was particularly interested in peering into other cars at the gas station. He seemed more intent on dancing with Willem.

"I've had enough of your crap for one night," I heard Jake bark, and the engine to the off-white van started again. "This is where I leave you, O.K?"

"My good sir," Jesse said, drunkenly swaggering over to the driver's window, and he raised his water bottle high. "You have served your purpose."

"And for that," Willem added. "We will reward you."

"With tangerines," Jesse concluded. "As they are on special at the moment in the supermarket. Jake raised an eyebrow. I could see he was not particularly impressed with his prize.

"Tangerine…flavoured jell-o," Will corrected his band-mate. "Because jell-o, of course, is the cuisine of kings!"

"Huffah!" Jesse roared cheerfully, and Willem grinned.

"Huffah!" he echoed, and he draped an arm around Jesse's shoulders. "Good sir, you may leave us now."

"Good," Jake replied, and he rested his hands on the steering wheel in a business-like manner. "I'm leaving gladly."

"Huffah," Jesse said, and then hiccoughed. Will snorted. The van drove away, leaving another trail of bluish-grey smoke behind it. "You know, I think Jake is secretly jealous."

Will narrowed his eyes. "Obviously," he said. "Of the – hic – bottled water he threw at us to try and sober us up."

"No," Jesse argued. "He is jealous that we are the ones stranded at a gas station. He wishes he was stranded here. But he can't be. Because he has the van!" He thrust his water bottle into the air triumphantly for a second, before lowering it again, confusedly. "No, that's not right."

"You think?" Meghan whispered in my ear, as my fingers gripped the windowpane of the car. Drew was also watching animatedly, leaning nonchalantly against the side of the car. Paul was still in the shop, no doubt chatting up the cashier. Which was fine with me.

"Sssh," I urged her, and I pressed my nose against the glass. "I'm watching."

"He's jealous of the women," Willem decided, gradually, and Jesse threw his bottle into the air, expecting to catch it, before it landed with a _clunk _on his head. He looked around wildly for it. "I've cracked it."

"Ah yes," Jesse agreed, thoughtfully. "The women. The stubble-faced, knife-wielding, hairy-chested women….no. That was the men."

"And what does young Sir Jesse think of the women?" Willem asked, and I crouched down even further as they came closer, so that it was just my eyes and forehead visible from the outside. "Are they monstrous, or simply heavenly?"

"Monstrous," Jesse answered almost immediately. "They tear your heart in two like an animal, and then run away like _you're _the predator. Monstrous," he repeated, for emphasis.

"And this would be the fair Susannah?" Willem said, his expression turning kind as he looked at Jesse. Jesse picked a spot on the floor, and Meghan stared at me, eyes wide.

"Ah yes, the fair Susannah." Jesse's voice sounded sad. "Huffah."

"Huffah," Willem agreed, and they clashed their bottles of water together.

"Hey, Suze!" Paul yelled, coming out of the shop at long last, carrying various packets of candy and six-packs of beer. "I didn't know what flavour M&Ms you like, so I got you both crispy and plain." Jesse suddenly spotted me for the first time, but I couldn't read his expression. I didn't look at Paul. My eyes were glued to Jesse.

"Peanut," Jesse said, and I watched his lips form the word. Paul looked at Jesse distractedly.

"What?" Paul asked, dropping the colourful packets into the front seat through the window. "What are you on about, De Silva? Are you drunk?" I got out of the car instinctively, unsure of whom I should support if an argument broke out.

"Peanut," Jesse repeated, and he blinked. Once. Twice. "Susannah likes peanut-flavoured M&Ms. Right, Susannah?"

Paul turned to me, demanding an answer. "Its fine," I assured him. "I like all of them. It's fine. You get in the car. I'll be there now." Paul did as I told him, passing back the Skittles for Meghan, and popping the top of a can of beer, following me with his eyes as I took a step towards Jesse.

"Jesse," I said.

"_Querida_," he shot back. My heart flipped. Now that was dirty playing.

"I'll just go… drink water," Willem muttered, backing away. My gaze didn't flicker towards him. It stayed on Jesse, as his did on me.

"You're not my boyfriend, Jesse," I told him, and I saw a glint in his eye. "No matter how many…mistakes I've made since we broke up."

"They're not mistakes, Susannah," Jesse said, closing the gap between us. "I love you."

"How?" I demanded. "I'm obsessed with cleaning. I only like one flavour of M&Ms – no matter what I told Paul – and I'm a hard bitch. What is there to like about me?"

"Everything," Jesse told me. "I love _everything _about you."

I furiously blinked back a tear, and took a step backwards, into something solid. It was Paul.

"Is there a problem here?" he asked, his eyes more focused on me. "Suze?"

"No," I said, looking back at Jesse. "There's not. Let's go."

I followed him back to the car, and climbed into the backseat, where Meghan was still gawking at me. "Meg." I glared at her. "Stop."

We drove home in silence, and dropped Drew and Meghan at their respective houses, my heart thudding, nearly breaking my ribcage, the whole time. Things always seemed to come to blows, wherever Jesse was concerned. It was making my pulse race, and my stomach feel like it was about to fall out.

We came to a stop of the Mission, where my car sat in all its cleaned-from-the-inside glory. Paul wrapped his fingers around mine, and squeezed. I guess he meant this in a romantic way, but all I felt was nauseated. Suddenly, I couldn't take it any more.

"Paul," I said, a little louder than I'd anticipated. "Listen. We need to talk."


	17. Seeing the Light

**A/N Thanks for all of my reviews last chapter. 22! That's fab, it really is. I hope you appreciate this chapter, and although it is a cliffie, I will hopefully be putting up the next one on the weekend, so you won't have to wait long. **

**Dedication - to me! Because writing a 3500 word chapter in between three days worth of heavy homework is quite an acheivement, as my fellow writers will agree? Si?**

**Also, to Moonlight Silhouette. Who begged for this dedication. Pfft.**

**She is trying to update her stories soon, those who read her stuff. And bare with her, because she is an amazing writer who deserved to be read.**

**The mistake was changed, not that anyone bar one person found that. Thanks to Rina 007!**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Seventeen**

The break-up with Paul went surprisingly well. Some guys took it really hard – as in, ready-to-throw-themselves-off-a-building hard – and some guys acted like they couldn't care less, like they were about to do the same thing tomorrow, or whenever. Paul was a happy middle. He didn't break into gunshot sobs instantly, but he did suggest we went on a little break, rather than ending definitely. I had declined this. It was time to finish it.

Puze, Saul… it never sounded too great anyway.

I drove home in my own car, neatly parking it between Mom's sports car and the off-white van belonging to Jake and Dirty Bunch, and opened my front door, quietly, dropping my keys on the phone table. It was late at night now, past midnight. Mom would be asleep, or else tapping away at her typewriter, edging closer to the end of her novel. Andy would almost definitely be asleep; being the type of man that considered a good sleep only to be 10 hours or more, and Jake was no doubt playing Coolboarder in his room. In any case, I had to creep to my room like a mouse.

I was too wired to sleep. A single girl for the third time in my summer vacation, I had too many thoughts running through my head. I lay on my bed, tracing the swirls on my ceiling with my eyes. I dropped an arm down on the floor, feeling for my Walkman. My fingers clasped around the cool plastic, and I brought it up onto the bed, slipping my headphones in and pressing play.

Silence.

_**The night after Jesse's birthday, I had sat on my bed and opened my Walkman, prising the Dirty Bunch CD from it, and snapping it in two, before throwing the pieces into the fire and watching them fizzle and melt.**_

Ah, yes. I'd forgotten about that.

I pulled the headphones out of my ears again and cast it aside, and it hit the bed with a soft _bump_. I sighed, and swung my legs over the side of my bed, and sat up. What else could I listen to?

I knelt down on the floor and pulled my box of CDs out of from underneath my bed. There were some nineties hits from my childhood, a few Top Forty artists, and the _Dirty Dancing _soundtrack my mother had bought me for my fourteenth birthday when I was obsessed with the film. I rifled through them; _clack-clack-clack_ as they leant against each other. I decided to re-alphabetize them, by artist. _Dirty Dancing _slipped in behind _Aqua_'_s _"Barbie Girl" and Kelly Clarkson was sent to the back. I wondered yet again how I had become so irresponsible.

Half an hour later, I climbed back on my bed, and looked at the clock. By now, my CDs and DVDs were reordered, my clothes that were too small had been packed into a black bag and tied with a Twistie, and I had drawn up a list of supplies I needed for school. _Stationary, notebooks, ringbinders…_I double-checked it and traced each letter with my fingertip. It was 1:45a.m, later than I had thought. And I still wasn't ready to sleep. I pulled open my bedroom door, and walked down the landing, the balls of my feet barely touching the carpet in my quest to be undetectable. As I neared Jake's door, I heard his fingers moving swiftly over what game console controller he was using, and the angry pings from the T.V. I knocked the wood gently, and pressed down on the handle.

My stepbrother was in surf shorts, and that was it. His brown stomach was flat – but not muscled – and his shoulders were slumped as his eyes were glued to the TV screen that was flashing several colours against the wall. I cleared my throat, and he jumped. Obviously he had not noticed me come in.

"Jeesh, Suze," he gasped, even clutching his chest. Wimp. "You gave me a freaking heart-attack."

"God, what a baby," I replied, sitting down besides him. "I just can't sleep, that's all." Jake offered me a controller, which I took, despite wanting to wash it with a Wet Wipe first.

"Yeah," Jake said, bringing up a menu and choosing the option 'New Game'. "Me neither. What's your excuse?"

"I broke up with Paul," I answered, as I read the instructions that had flickered up on the screen. "Tonight, by the Mission."

"Ah." Jake pressed a button, and the instructions disappeared. "Another bites the dust, right?" These words, I realised, were the ones Meghan had said to me about Paul the last time round. It was strange, how I'd come in a full circle in a matter of two months. I nodded.

"Right," I echoed. White letters came in and out of focus on the television. _3...2...1…Go! _It was some kind of racing game, and Jake sped off into the distance, leaving me in a storm of dust. I fiddled with all the buttons, desperate to somehow accelerate, but gave up, and watched gloomily as all the other little characters overtook me mockingly. "So why can't you sleep?"

"Nerves," Jake said, simply. "We got a meeting with Prescott Productions in three days, and I just can't stop thinking about it. So I've been playing _Mario _until I can. I tend to get a little droopy round around 5:00a.m. No biggie."

I smiled sadly, and Jake leant over to press another button to put me out of my misery. My little character suddenly burst through the air, whizzing past all the jerks that had passed me earlier. "Ha ha!" I cried, and Jake clasped a hand over my mouth.

"Ssh," he urged. "Mom and Dad are sleeping." I looked at him. He'd called her Mom. Again. But this time I let it slide.

It seemed we were family, at last.

"Hey, Jake?" I asked him, and he dropped his controller to look at me. "For a step-brother, I guess you're O.K."

He had now abandoned the game, but I kept one eye on the screen, and my little car that was now accompanied by a silver number "1". He smiled. "Aw, thanks, Suze. I guess as a stepsister, you have potential."

"Potential?" I repeated. "I gave you an 'O.K'."

Jake shrugged, and examined his toenails. I was a little grossed out, and turned back to the T.V.

"Jake?"

"Yeah?" He looked up, and I gestured towards the screen. My car was now on a victory lap, whilst his sat stationary on the other half of the screen.

"I won."

"_What?"_

* * *

I left Jake's room at 3:30p.m, when his eyelids began to droop. He offered to stay up with me, but I told him to get some sleep. I wandered back to my room, and sat on the edge of my bed, mind still racing. 

Or so I thought.

The next thing I feeling something warm on my cheek. I swatted it away, which just seemed to encourage it more. "Get _off_!" I cried, and I opened my eyes to see Champagne drooling over me, her dirty fur hanging down in my eyes, and her tongue attempting to make its way up one of my nostrils. "Ew!" I threw the dog on the floor, and noticed I had left my door open last night.

"Ugh," I muttered, and I sat up again, wiping my face in disgust. I wandered to the bathroom, and turned on the shower, dodging expertly the splashes whilst I undressed and threw my clothes into the laundry basket. Then I stepped underneath the warm water – now the right temperature after I had let it run for a while – and shivered in delight as it ran down my back. I reached for my razor and shaving foam with my eyes closed, and applied the foam swiftly. I was a single woman today. A new woman. A hairless-bodied woman.

"Argh!" I hissed, as the blade nicked my leg, and a stream of crimson blood trickled down my skin, marring my perfect complexion. I swivelled my body so that the running water cleaned the wound, and finished my legs without another interruption. So much for the new woman. Now I was a cut and bloody new woman.

I dressed in silence, and as quickly as I could with my broken arm, pulling on my wool-blend trousers to hide my cut, and a sleeveless T-shirt to show off my smooth armpits. It was strange how this made me feel really good.

I then traipsed downstairs, towards the kitchen, where I heard the clatter of cutlery and voices.

"So what are you up today, Jake?" I heard Andy ask, and when I came through the door I noticed he was shovelling bacon onto a plate in front of my stepbrother. "Band practice?"

"Yeah," Jake replied, as I sat down opposite him with my regular black coffee and orange. "At Randall Way, though, don't worry." I dug my nails into my fruit, and began peeling. Jake eyed me amusedly. "Why don't you just cut it?" he asked.

"Because," I said, as I tore a satisfying amount of orange peel off in one go. "Then I wouldn't have the satisfaction of a job well done." Jake rolled his eyes.

"Whatever."

It was strange, how easy the give-and-take came now. For weeks we'd been the kind of siblings who avoided each other like the plague. I don't think I spoke more than two words a day to him sometimes – a "Hey" when I entered the room and a "Later" when I left it. But now here we were conversing over breakfast like some kind of civilised family.

"You want to come along, Suze?" Jake offered, and he took a huge bite of his bacon. I could see the mush on his tongue. Yuck. "Jesse will be there."

"Ah yes, Jesse." The smile on Andy's face was undeniable, though he tried to hide it. I tried to ignore this.

"I have a feeling Jesse and Will won't be in the mood for much band practice," I told Jake. "Were you not there last night at the gas-station when you dropped them off last night?"

"_You_ were there?" Jake looked surprised. "Jeesh, they were pissed out of their brains." Andy cleared his throat noisily. "I mean drunk. Drunk out of their brains."

"I know," I replied. "I had to deal with them afterwards. What was with the huffah crap?"

"God knows," he said, finishing his meat. "I doubt even they remember this morning." I laughed into my coffee.

"What are you up today, Suze?" Andy asked me, offering me the pan of sizzling bacon. I tried not to gag. Fatty meat always hit me at the back of my throat. I shook my head. "Seeing Paul?"

"Suze broke up with Paul," Jake announced, through a mouthful of toast. I looked at him, admiring the way he could fit in a whole buttered triangle and still string a coherent sentence together. That would always be one skill I will never acquire.

"Thank-you, personal assistant," I said dryly, and he winked at me. Andy, however, was trying to hide the smug grin on his face with the dish cloth he had draped over his arm. "What?" I asked him.

"Nothing, nothing," Andy said dismissively, and he turned away to hide his grin and stacked Jake's plate in the dishwasher. "It's such a shame, Suze. Paul was such a nice boy." I managed to catch the sarcasm in his voice.

"Ha ha," I replied, my voice toneless. I swept an apple from the fruit bowl, and sunk my teeth into it, waving a hand goodbye to my stepfamily, walking out the door. It was time to check on the Meghan.

I got into my car, and sniffed the clean scent inside it. It had been given the privilege of being vacuumed, and presented with a new air freshener. It smelt of lavender. Perfect.

I started the engine, sticking my apple into the clean ashtray, where I would be no doubt plucking it from in the tedious traffic that led onto the highway on my way to Meghan's house. I wouldn't bother calling. She'd probably be sitting on her sofa, miserably watching _The OC _re-runs. It always made her cheer up when she realised that at least she didn't look like Julie Cooper.

I pulled up outside her house to see that both her parent's cars were MIA. This was unusually, as the Drs Thomas didn't really like to leave Meghan alone in her depressed state. Maybe she had gone with her.

I decided to try the door anyway, and found in ajar. I pushed it open silently, only to hear the wood scuff along the carpet, and a panicked voice from the living room. My heart began racing. If there was someone hurting Meghan there wasn't much I could do – considering I still wore my arm in a sling, and it was hard enough driving, let alone trying to fight off a bad guy – and I instinctively reached inside my pocket for my mobile phone, fingering the 9 key.

_9…_

I took a tentative step towards the living room doorway, the voice becoming louder. It was muffled, more like there was something covering the person's mouth. Oh my God – what if Meghan had been gagged?

_1…_

I pressed the second number, ready for the second 1 if my suspicions were true. I was in the doorway now, one more step and I was in the living room, and submitting myself to whatever was inside. Taking a deep breath, I took the plunge.

"Meg!" I yelled, setting foot in the living room to find Meghan on the sofa, lying horizontally but perfectly O.K. In fact, she was disgustedly O.K. She had Drew on top of her, his hands sliding halfway up her T-shirt. "Oh my God! Oh my God, I am _so _sorry!"

I blushed scarlet and whirled around, trying to erase the image from my retinas immediately. I guess this meant Meghan was finally over Kenny. Very over Kenny.

"Suze!" Meghan cried, pulling her T-shirt down and laying a hand on my arm to turn me around. "Suze? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Um," I said. "I was kind of coming to see how you are." I was determined not to make eye contact with Drew, who had come up behind her. "Can I…can I talk to you for just one second?"

"Sure," Meghan replied, and she gestured for Drew to sit on the sofa, handing him the TV remote. "Sorry, Drew, I'll be two seconds."

She ushered me across the front door – which I shut, now knowing Meg was safe – and into the dining room. I sat down on one of the heavily cushioned chairs whilst Meghan crossed her arms impatiently. "I'm really sorry you walked in on us, Suze."

"Me too," I added. "Do you realise that will be imprinted forever on my brain now?" Meg gave me a pointed look, which I replied to with a sheepish look. "Can I just remind you of what you said yesterday? 'Drew's a nerd. A sixteen year-old nerd'. Remember that?" Meg rolled her eyes.

"Yes," she said. "But it turns out he and I have a lot in common. He thinks Julie Cooper is really ugly too." I sighed. "And he hates calculus. He's planning on majoring in History – like I am in the fall – with a minor in Political Science. We had like a whole conversation before what you saw. I really like him, Suze. There's more to him than I thought."

I pursed my lips. "I'm not _disapproving,_" I replied. "I was just confused. I mean, you hate boys who are younger than you. You hate people who like science. You are bored by people who care about the environment."

"You make exceptions for the people you love," Meghan explained, kindly. "If you click with someone that goes against everything you believe in, you just go with it. Because it might be worth the risk."

"You're in love with Drew?" I asked, only picking out one line of that speech. "Already?"

"No." Now Meghan sounded impatient. "Not yet. But you just don't know. And whereas you choose not to bother with a 50-50 chance, some people do. And yes, some people end up getting hurt, or hurting others. But some people find their hopes and dreams from that 50-50 chance."

I stood up, no beginner to the "take a chance" speech. I'd heard it a million times from people who had encouraged me to deal with Jesse. The vocabulary had been varied, and maybe the sentence structure, but the message was the same. It was like I was on some kind of game-show, where the crowd was urging me to gamble all I'd won. And at the beginning, I was convinced I just wanted to keep what I had so far – a break-up with Jesse and a new relationship with Paul. Now I'd begun the gamble, and it looked like there was no turning back.

"I have to go," I said, suddenly. Meghan's eyes narrowed.

"Have I inspired you, Susannah Simon?" She asked me. I cocked my head, and smiled.

"Maybe," I replied. "Or I could just be hungry. I'm not entirely sure what the feeling in my gut means right now."

Meghan laughed. "Go!" she urged me, placing a hand in the small of my back and pushing me towards the front door. "Go get your man!"

"He's not my man," I grumbled. "I told you it could be just a craving for M&Ms-" But the reply I got was a door slam in my face. I guess it was off to Randall Way.

_**"I have a surprise for you," Jesse said, and he placed both of his brown calloused hands in front of my eyes. "No peeking, O.K?"**_

_**"Fine…" I sighed, and placed my hands over his, feeling the usual warmth. "What's going on, anyway?"**_

_**"Do you know what today is, querida?" Jesse asked me, as we waded into the living room of the yellow house. "Any ideas?"**_

_**"It's the twelfth," I answered him, a little unsure of how relevant the question was. "Are you ever going to release me?"**_

_**"Do you ever want me to?" he whispered in my ear, and my breath caught in my throat. I was grateful I didn't have to answer the question, as Jesse relinquished fairly quickly, leaving me to see again. We were in the centre of the room – nothing particularly special about it. The living room was painted yellow, of course – Jesse's was the only room not painted the sunshine shade – but I couldn't see any differences from the way it had been since last time. I turned to Jesse, and he sighed.**_

_**"The coffee table, querida," he said, and my eyes wandered towards the old wooden table in front of the TV. A display of colourful dots spelt out my name, and on closer inspection, I saw that they were M&Ms. Peanut flavour – I could tell by the packets lingering in the trashcan.**_

_**"Oh my…" I trailed off, kneeling towards the chocolate, and Jesse smiled.**_

_**"It's our two-week anniversary," he told me, whilst I plucked an M&M from the 'h' and licked it, like a kindergartener. Then I ate it, feeling the chocolate melt on my tongue, and I got to my feet to give Jesse a gentle M&M kiss. Don't quote me on this, but he was slowly becoming the most attentive boyfriend ever.**_

I shook my head as I turned the corner into Randall Way, smiling at my reminiscing. Jesse would be back at the yellow house now, no doubt plucking away at his guitar, or watching TV, or scraping away at orange jell-o in a bowl. The yellow-painted bricks came into sight, and I could just picture myself turning off my engine, and running up the steps to ring the doorbell excitedly. Jesse would open it, and I'd throw myself into his arms, kissing him passionately. My heart leapt at the cliché and embarrassment of it all, but I couldn't resist. I had to admit it.

I had made a mistake. I shouldn't have let Jesse go.

But then I saw something that made my stomach lurch – something much worse than seeing Jesse's body entwined with Ebony's, or him making some obscene gesture at me as I drove past. I looked up to the rooftops to see a wisp of purplish-grey smoke curl upwards in a sinister spiral and then be followed by another and another until there was a screen of the smoke rising steadily upwards. My eyes dropped down the storeys of the building, and then I saw flickers of orange through the top windows, eating away at the window panes and licking the brick-work.

Oh my God.

The yellow house was on fire.


	18. Feeling the Burn

**A/N An update! Do I hear a hurrah? Thanks for all the reviews I got last chapter, I really appreciate it. I shouldn't really be saying this... but this chapter is one of my least favourites. Please appreciate how hard it was to write, and also that I may not get all of the medical details right, because I am _not _a doctor... lol**

**Disclaimer - I don't own _The Mediator _or _This Lullaby_.**

**Dedication - for Katie, and her love of Jexter.**

**PS. I have a new Mediator fic! I'd really appreciate some reviews for it, to let me know what you think. It's called Light My Candle, posted up now.**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Eighteen**

I'm not really sure where all the blood in my body went at that precise second. The next thing I knew my limbs had become stiff and immovable, and my heart was thudding so loud it was causing a ringing in my ears. I was consumed with fear and panic and desperately hoping that this was a dream and that I was going to wake up any second now.

The orange blaze was like some kind of predator – feeding on the ivy that curled up one side of the sunny-shade house until it turned black and crispy; gnawing away at the roof tiles. It snaked around the window frames, causing ripples of heat across the glass of the windows. People were inside the house – I knew from the white van perched on the driveway – and all I could do was sit in my seat, frozen to the spot.

And then a face flooded my mind – the same mind that was experiencing several thousand emotions at once – and all I felt was determination. Someone was in that house that I cared about – someone worth rescuing. Someone I wasn't about to let get hurt.

I yanked the keys out of the ignition and dropped them on the car-seat and I thrust the car door open, not even wincing as the paintwork on the bottom scratched against the sidewalk. I raced up the concrete steps, my calves protesting in agony as I pounded each level with my ankle boot-clad feet.

The fumes were strong when I reached the red front door. I placed the sleeve of my jacket over my mouth and pushed the door open. It was – as always – half-open. I stood in the hallway, mulling over the times where it wasn't marred with a wall of smoke. The smoke was beginning to make my eyes water. I jammed them shut, hurriedly, and a tear ran down my cheek.

_**"It'll be fine," Jesse assured me, placing a hand in the small of my back and giving me a gentle push. I pouted.**_

_**"They know, don't they?" I asked suspiciously, as we stepped through the threshold and into the hallway. "You told them."**_

_**"Not yet," Jesse said, obviously lying. I narrowed my eyes. "I haven't spoken to them since yesterday morning."**_

_**"That wouldn't stop you," I replied. "Boys accuse girls of gossiping, but really, you are so much worse."**_

_**"I'm sure they are," he said amusedly, and he leant in to kiss me. "Are you ready?"**_

_**"For what?" I questioned teasingly. "You said there was nothing to be prepared for, seeing as they don't know. Right?"**_

_**"Ah yes, of course." Jesse back-pedalled, unconvincingly. "In we go…"**_

_**"Jesse!" I squealed girlishly, but he had already pushed the door to the lounge open.**_

The lounge was empty, as was the kitchen and the dining room. Which meant that everyone was upstairs, where the smoke was thicker, and the fire was closer. I travelled up the stairs tentatively, and heard banging on a door when I reached the top. My heart leapt.

"Jesse?" I cried through the sleeve of my jacket, and then removed my shield so that I could pound on the wood with my good hand. "Jesse!"

"It's not Jesse!" called a desperate voice. "It's Adam! Suze?"

"Why can't you get out?" I asked, panicked. "The door's not locked, is it?"

"The handle's fallen off!" Adam replied, and I heard him throw himself at the door. "The door won't budge."

"O.K," I said, and I covered my mouth with my sleeve. "Step back. One. Two. Three-" I launched myself at the wood, kicking it with my ankle boots and causing a surprising dent in it. I kicked it again, and a hole appeared. Adam's relieved face appeared in the gap, and he squeezed through holding his breath. I gestured with my sleeve for him to cover his mouth.

"Who else is here?" I asked him, but he was distracted, looking at the stairs with longing. "Where's Jesse? Is Jake here?"

Adam did an irritating shrug, and I pushed him on the floor with a hard shove. "A shrug is no use to me!" I yelled, and he looked taken aback. "Find them goddami,t or I will kick your ass into the next-"

Adam held up a surrendering gesture and pointed towards a room where a steady stream of smoke was issuing out from underneath the door. It was Jesse's room – I knew from the several photos of the two of us together taped to his door.

"He's in there?" I mouthed, and Adam looked uneasy.

"I don't know," he said apologetically. "I've been locked in my room for ages – when I smelt the smoke about an hour ago I went to check it out, but the handle fell of the door and I couldn't get out. I was alone in the house then but if the van's on the drive now…"

"Leave!" I ordered, and he stumbled down the stairs. I pushed Jesse's door open easily, my memory clogged up with all the experiences I'd had in this room at the most inconvenient time… my eyes spotted Jesse lying face-down on the carpet with a plank of smouldering wood across his back. My guess was he had been hit. The carpet around him was aflame, and inches away from his face.

_**It wasn't very often that it rained in Northern California. But the heavens chose the end of June to tip it down, soaking Jesse and I to the skin when we were taking a walk around the block. We had ran back to the yellow house for cover, both freezing cold.**_

_**"Your hair is so curly in the rain," I had remarked, and ran my fingers through it. He smiled, and took my chin between his fingers. **_

_**"Your eyes are so green in the rain," he retorted, and I laughed. He took off his T-shirt, revealing a dazzling set of abdominal muscles. He led me upstairs, into his room, and he stuck a CD into the player whilst he changed his T-shirt and found us some towels. I rubbed my hair dry, and he leant down to kiss me on the lips, just gently.**_

_**He tasted of the rain – salty and sexy and cold – and I couldn't help but try it again, pulling him next to me, and then he was on top of me, and my head was getting pressed deeper into the pillow. I could hear the rain splattering on the window outside – a perfect accompaniment to the music tinkling in the background. I automatically reached to lift up his T-shirt…and his hands clasped over mine in shock. I read the look in his eyes. Not now. Not yet.**_

My mind began reeling at the sight of Jesse on the floor, surrounded by the blaze. I wasn't sure if he was unconscious or … otherwise. I was paralysed to the spot by shock, and it took me a moment to gain control of my limbs again. And then the flames inched closer to his face and I was suddenly consumed by panic that Jesse might get burnt. I raced to his side and lifted the beam off his back, seeing it had made a charcoal mark on his shirt, but he was still breathing.

"Jesse," I muttered, coughing on the smoke as I shook him. "Jesse you have to wake up. Jesse. I have to get you out of here."

He wasn't stirring, but the fire was coming closer. I lifted up Jesse's rigid body to see if my body could support it, and was unsure. I felt in my pocket to find my cell phone, and call the fire department. My fingers trembled as I struggle to punch in 911, and I had to press the phone hard to my ear to keep it there, all the while nudging Jesse with my foot to try and wake him.

I gave the address, and they were asking me for various other details when a second burning beam fell from the ceiling and knocked the phone from my hand and set the carpet near me aflame. I screamed, and a surge of panic struck me. I turned to Jesse and began prodding him again.

"Jesse!" I pleaded, terrified tears pouring down my cheeks. "Please! Jesse! Wake up!"

He was still no closer to being able to get down the stairs, and I was beginning to feel dizzy with fear. I lifted Jesse's limp arm and wrapped it around my shoulder, and turned to see the other one being devoured by flame. I yelled in horror and swatted at it with my jacket, leaving the fingers slightly blackened but not on fire. I lifted him so that his head slumped on my shoulders. I dragged him through the doorway just as a draft caused the blaze to sweep across the carpet that Jesse and I had been only moments before. My whole body was covered in inches of sweat, and I still had the entire weight of Jesse to carry down the stairs. I couldn't do it. I was overcome with exhaustion already, and I dropped Jesse gently at the top of the stairs, releasing brilliant gun-shot sobs, my clothes singed and torn. I clasped Jesse's hand and felt for a pulse – it was still there. I kissed his fingers and laid him straight, before giving him an almighty shove down the stairs, and his stiff body went sliding down to the bottom before landing in an awkward heap.

I was about to follow him before the ceiling above me sudden collapsed – large chunks of plaster and wood falling onto my legs and holding me to the same spot. The debris was hot – scalding my poor legs whilst I yelped in agony and sobbed for Jesse all at the same time.

The front door only yards burst open suddenly, and two of the most beautiful people appeared in the doorway. There were dressed in yellow with a matching helmet, both yelling for some kind of response. It was quite difficult to see their faces through the heavy screen of smoke, but I don't think I have ever felt so relieved to see the uniform. I coughed again, the ash and dust getting to my lungs.

"Here!" I yelled. "Here-"

Another round of bricks landed on my side, alerting the firemen to my presence. One seized the wilted form of Jesse and heaved him to the doorway, where I assumed ambulance people would be waiting, and the other ran up the stairs and began lifting the ceiling parts off my leg.

"Thank-you," I gasped, weeping spectacularly as one of my legs became visible. "I…I…"

"It's O.K, little Missy," the fireman said kindly, scooping me into his arms. "Everything will be alright now." I began to feel sick. Missy? I wasn't Missy. I was Susannah. Did he not know that? Hadn't he been the nice feminine voice I'd gabbled to urgently on the phone? The idiot, he didn't know what he was on about.

The smoke was thick and grey now and I flew through it as the fireman carried me swiftly down the stairs. I had had to abandon my jacket back in Jesse's room – it was Abercrombie and Fitch and everything – and was now forced to inhale the disillusioning fumes in. I tried to reason with myself, but my head wasn't clearing. The nice man was taking me home, back to a bed, a nice bed where I could tell Mom and Andy and Jake about my adventure –

Jake. I struggled in the fireman's arms, calling for my stepbrother urgently. "Jake!" I cried, and the man was struggling to console. "Jake! Jake! Jake!"

"Now see here Little Missy," he said. "I need to get you outside. We'll rescue your boyfriend in a minute, I promise you-"

"My brother!" I screamed. "He's here, the van, I saw the van!"

"Ssh," the fireman practically begged me, and I was finally in clear air. I could see faint figures gathering in the garden, and red and blue lights on the road ahead. They were pretty…so pretty…

And then two more of the strong men came rushing towards me, and they were carrying a stretcher. I was lifted on to it, and something clear and small was being forced onto my mouth. I didn't want it, what was it? I rolled about on the flat stretcher and hands were placed on my midriff to calm me. I cried out in distreess and anguish as a mask was placed over my mouth and the swirling colours of grey and orange and blue above me in the sky mixed together in bursts and streaks and the pain in my legs was easing a bit at a time...

And then, finally, I was as peace, as I breathed in some of the air that made my limbs feel feather-light and succumbed to the drowsiness that was unbearable.

I finally relaxed, and didn't even notice the bright white light shining into my eyes just like the sun through pearly gates.


	19. Face the Bubbles

**A/N** **Can I just say again how much I am awed by the amount of reviews this fic is getting? Its unbelievable, and I just want to thank you guys. For those of you who haven't checked it out yet - I have a new fic, told by Jesse of course, called "Light my Candle." If you're bored, that's the place to go :-) **

**Dedication - To Tohru Seraphina, and our planned Jesse-hunt (starting in Spain, yah?) and also to XxMoonStarsSpacexX, my other PM buddy. Thanks for your support of this fic, guys.**

**And also Megan. Duh.**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Nineteen**

"Well, it seems her responses are normal, and her heartbeat is regular. We just have to wait for her to wake up."

"Is she in a coma?"

"No, no, Mrs Ackerman, she's fine. She's just resting. It was a pretty traumatic day for her yesterday."

I kept my eyes closed, just until I could work out my surroundings. By the sound of things, I was back in the hospital – a not-so-rare residence for me lately – and the mattress beneath me was thin and lumpy. The pillow underneath my head smelt of hair wax and vanilla – a scent that was testing my gag reflexes. One by one, more voices joined the orchestra of buzzing noises around me. It appeared I had an audience.

I lifted my lights – just gently – and squinted at the bright bulb above my head. The _beep-beep-beep _of the heart monitor was louder now, and I heard a wave of relief spread around in a circle as my spectators realised I was awake. I felt my mother's cool hand clasp around my fingers, squeezing tight.

"Susie!" she breathed and I smiled weakly. My legs felt like lead – bolted to the bed. Somebody was tickling my toes. I squirmed, and I heard a bubble of Jake's childlike laughter. I grinned.

"Jake…" I murmured, and I saw my mother shuffle her chair over a little for Jake to kneel by my side. "You're alive."

"Yeah," he said. "I was down the road buying groceries. I wasn't in the house at all."

I groaned, as my panic attack with the fireman yesterday came back to me in sharp bursts. "Seriously?" He nodded. I closed my eyes and sank back into my pillow, embarrassed. "What about Jesse and Adam?"

"Adam's fine – he was just treated for the shock," Jake replied, evidently purposefully leaving Jesse out. "He's fine today. Hey, look at the bouquet your dad sent you-"

"And Jesse?" I asked sharply. "Is he O.K?" My stepbrother exchanged glances with my mother and Andy. "Tell me!"

"His hand got really badly burnt," he said finally, surrendering the information. "It's all black. There's gonna be scarring."

"His hand?" I repeated, suddenly remembering it all. "Not his right one?" His right hand was the one he used to play the chords on his guitar. Jake nodded poignantly, his gaze dropping to the floor. I suddenly felt a rush of compassion for him. Dirty Bunch were meant to be meeting with Prescott Productions tomorrow. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Sorry?" he echoed, passionately. "Sorry? _You're sorry? _If it wasn't for you, Suze, I wouldn't even _have _a keyboardist or a lead singer. We can work around Jesse's injury. But what we couldn't have worked around was half a band."

I smiled sadly. My two other stepbrothers were sat quietly in the corner, conversing excitedly over a Gameboy. I rolled my eyes. One strangely close relationship with my new family was all I could handle about now. I was fine with getting to know Brad and David at a later date.

"Um," I said, trying to move my legs. "What's wrong with my legs?"

"Don't you remember, honey?" my mother asked me worriedly. "Yesterday? Brett said you were hit by debris from the ceiling?"

"Brett?" I asked amusedly. My mother blushed.

"The fireman," Andy explained. "He was a fan. She promised him the first copy of _Men Are Pigs_, didn't you honey?"

My mother nodded. "Your legs were pretty damaged, sweetie. You won't be able to walk for about a week. They can't feed you any more drugs, or you might have a reaction." I looked at the offending appendages in dismay. That meant one week of my summer vacation gone – when I could be labelling boxes, or shopping for my new fall wardrobe.

"We'll let you get some rest now," my mother said softly. I could tell she recognised the signs of the cogs in my mind turning obsessively. "You're tired."

She took Andy's hand and began leading him out – Jake following behind them. I clutched at his sleeve, hissing his name. "Jake!" He whirled around in surprise, and nodded at my mom and his dad, who closed the door. Jake took his seat again, looking concerned.

"What is it, Suze? Are you O.K?"

I smiled at his panic. "I'm fine," I assured him kindly. "I…I just need you to do me a favour."

Jake leant his head closer to me. "Sure," he said. "Anything."

I clicked my tongue. "I need to talk to Jesse."

* * *

My dream was fairly warped that afternoon. Jake had left me, promising he'd sort something out, and I free to drift into an exhausted world of my own – though halfway through my dream sequence I was starting to wish I wasn't.

_I was back in the yellow house – in the kitchen, in fact. I always hated the colour of the walls – I couldn't stare at it for very long periods of time without feeling the need to lie down. It was the brightest orangey-yellow in the house, completed with equally horrific sunflower wallpaper below the dado-rail. And to top it all off, I was drinking orange juice._

_"Hey, Suze," Meghan said, suddenly appearing beside me and helping herself to orange juice. "How're you doing?"_

_"I'm O.K," I replied, as Meghan spat at her sip of orange juice, remarking "Yuck."_

_"You don't like orange juice?" I asked her. She shook her head, and reached into the cupboard next to us, pulling out a bottle of lemonade. _

_"Nope, it's too still. I like things that are fizzy." She took a big gulp of the soft drink, and smiled, pushing the bottle towards me. "Here," she said. "Have some."_

_"What about the bubbles?" I quizzed. "What if they go up your nose?"_

_She shrugged. "It's a chance I'm willing to take. I like lemonade. The threat of bubbles won't stop me drinking it."_

_"Huh." I took my own sip. "You're right."_

_"You see?" she said. "You shouldn't let the fear of bubbles stop you from drinking the lemonade." And then she disappeared._

"Suze." A hand was shaking me awake gently. "Suze. Wake up. I got you something."

I awoke groggily, to see Jake lifting something black and warm onto my hospital bed. It was buzzing slightly. I opened my eyes further to see it was a laptop. Jake's laptop.

"Jake," I said, sitting up to steady it on my knees. "I don't think these things are really allowed in a hospital." My stepbrother leant over my lap and pointed to a corner of the screen. An orange box was flashing. He clicked the mouse, and a bright blue window popped up.

**-Jesse-: **_**Hello, Susannah.**_

I was so surprised to see his words there; I was at a loss of what to say next. Jake looked at me blankly, before sighing, and responding himself.

**Surferboy: **_**Hey, Jess. I think Suze is having some kind of meltdown.**_

_**-**_

_**-**_

**Surferboy: **_**I am **__**not**_

**-Jesse-: **_**LOL**_

It turned out Jesse was only a few wards down from me – in the burns unit. His hand was pretty messed up – and he said it hurt a lot when he moved it – but it was going to clear up O.K, with only a small amount of scarring. I shooed Jake away from reading our conversation after a while. It felt like he was eavesdropping at the door or something.

**-Jesse-: **_**Thankyou for saving my life Susannah.**_

**Surferboy: **_**I couldn't have just left you there.**_

I paused for a while, where the only sounds were the soft hum of the laptop, and the nurses gossiping outside my room. I flexed my fingers, hearing them click, before poising them above the keyboard to add something else.

**Surferboy: **_**Jesse?**_

**-Jesse-: **_**Yes?**_

**Surferboy: **_**I think I'm in l-**_

A loud whirr sounded through the hospital, and the whole room was plunged into darkness. We were in silence – not even the _beep-beep-beep _of my heart monitor sounding. I was guessing this wasn't good. I heard Jake get up and open the door to look down the hallway. "Lights are on down there," he said. "I'm thinking it's just a wiring problem. It'll come back on in a minute."

And sure enough, the lights did flicker back on without minutes, and the irritating bleeps of my monitor started up again. It took a while for the laptop to recover however, and when we did eventually connect up to the internet, there was no sign of Jesse.

Crap.

X

It turned out the laptop was the cause of the fuse problem in my room, and was quickly confiscated – leaving me with no way of contacting Jesse again. I was left with old books and board games to entertain me till the end of the week, when all I was desperate to do was tell Jesse how I feel.

I had managed to pass the time by writing a list for my mother – now she had finished her novel _Men Are Pigs_, she had absolutely nothing to do – of anything she could help me with for the fall. Such items on this list included doing my laundry – which had resulted in her turning all of my whites pink – and buying all of my books for September (she had gotten distracted by a poster advertising her new book, and once she had finished admiring it she promptly forgot what she was actually meant to be doing, and walked straight out of the shop) and planning an end-of-vacation party for the girls. Her idea of an end-of-vacation party was going to a strip club and learning how to pole-dance. It had taken me a very tedious twenty-minute conversation with the Spanish owner of the before-mentioned strip club to cancel our lesson.

But Saturday eventually rolled around, and I could just about hop out of the hospital using two very pimped-up (thanks to Meghan and her love of fluorescent pink fluff) crutches. I was welcomed home by a mass of people – all of my girlfriends, most of Dirty Bunch – who were hyperactive after their meeting with Prescott Productions early on that week – surprisingly, Kelly Prescott and Debbie Mancuso, and last of all, a vicious horde of local journalists, all anxious for my heroic story. It took half an hour of all of Dirty Bunch plus my stepfather to shoo them all away.

"O.K," Meghan said, through an enormous bite of chocolate cake. "I say that we go down to Lace tomorrow, for a real celebration. Who's with me?"

"Uh, Meg?" Cee-Cee asked tentatively. "Are we forgetting that Suze can't walk?"

Meghan waved her hand about impatiently. "We'll get a cab. And it's not like any of us actually dance to the music they play."

"Yeah," Alyssa contributed. "We just sit around and get wasted. Duh."

A round of giggles erupted around the table, and I nodded. "I'm in," I decided. "I need to get out. Do you realise that yesterday was the first Friday night I've spent in since I turned 15?"

Meghan snorted. "Girl, this evening is so needed, it's insane." We agreed that we would take a cab – even though I wouldn't be drinking because of my pills, I still couldn't drive – and celebrate me being alive the whole night.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Susie?" my mother asked worriedly, from where she was sat on my bed. I smiled at her in the mirror on top of my vanity table.

"Mom, I'm not three years old anymore," I assured her. "I can use crutches. I'll be fine. Cee-Cee isn't drinking either, so she can watch out for me."

"Well O.K then," she replied, somewhat reluctantly. She helped me down the stairs – managing to fuss yet again until I told her there were no stairs at Lace – and waved me goodbye as the cab drove away. I leant against the cool leather as soon as we were out of sight in relief. Everyone laughed.

"I love my mom," I said. "But she is driving me insane."

"I've got the solution," Alyssa said, and she pulled a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, and shook them at me. "Here, take one. They're free to cripples."

I declined without thinking, and Alyssa's mouth dropped open, causing the unlit cigarette she had put between her lips to fall into her lap in shock. "What the _hell_ has gotten into you?" she asked me, collecting the cigarette and brushing it lightly with her fingertips before putting it back in her mouth. "Did one of those burning beams hit your _head_?"

"No," I replied, slightly offended. "I just quit, that's all."

"Since when?" Alyssa demanded. "I mean, you were still smoking at your mom's wedding, right?"

I shook my head. "Couldn't work the lighter," I explained. "My thumb kept slipping."

"Suze," Meghan said impatiently. "You were like, the lighter queen."

"She's insane," Fliss decided eventually. "There were two people who looked like her at the hospital, and we brought home the wrong one."

"It's me," I said exasperatedly. "It's just the new me that doesn't smoke. I got enough crap in my lungs from that fire to last me a lifetime, thanks."

"You haven't smoked since you went out with Jesse," Cee-Cee said, suddenly, causing all four heads to turn in her direction. "Right, Suze?"

I didn't answer. I was too dumb-struck by her accusation. Sure, I hadn't smoked since I began dating Jesse, but that didn't mean I stopped _because _of Jesse-

"Do you love Jesse?" Meghan asked me, bluntly. Her expression was different to what I had thought. I wasn't intimidating or demanding. It was soft, and friendly, like she already knew the answer, and she was just testing me to see if I knew it.

I pursed my lips, and took the cigarette packet from Alyssa. Meghan brushed the cigarettes out of my hand, and I didn't pick them up again. "Suze?"

"We're here," Fliss announced suddenly, making me jump and cutting the uneasy atmosphere in the back of the cab. Alyssa and Cee-Cee helped me out of the cab, and Meghan climbed out after me, a pitiful expression on her face – but not because of my medical state.

"Wait," I said, as we were ushered into the door by Ned. "Tonight's Sunday, right?"

"Right…" Alyssa replied slowly. I glanced at the stage.

"You guys," I sighed. "Tonight's Dirty Bunch night."

"Completely slipped my mind," said Meghan, not completely innocently.

"Wow," added Cee-Cee. "How did that get past us?"

"You're lucky I'm on crutches," I warned them. "Or there would be some serious ass-kicking going down right about now."

"Oh, honey, you don't mean that," giggled Fliss, with a half-hearted pat on my shoulder. "Let's sit down, shall we?"

We found ourselves a table amidst the smoky atmosphere of the club, and Meghan cleared away the empty glasses that had been left there, ordering three beers and two orange juices.

Fliss went up to help her with the drinks, and I made sure my crutches were under the table and out of the way. She set a cold glass of orange liquid down in front of me, and I sipped it, feeling the acidy taste slide down my throat. Dirty Bunch were taking to the stage. Jesse stuck out oddly with his bandaged hand – the only one without an instrument. I smiled. They began the opening chords to "Polka Dot Banana." They had been playing long enough at Lace now for the usual crowd to chime in during the chorus.

I looked at my drink – the colour resembling the horrors I had faced only a week ago in the yellow house on Randall Way. But the juice was so still, in contrast to the biting, spitting flames that had jumped about across the floor and up the walls. I swirled the liquid with my straw.

_You shouldn't let the fear of bubbles stop you from drinking the lemonade._

Suddenly, it all made sense to me. You shouldn't let the fear of getting hurt stop you from falling in love. I'd been hurt so many times – more recently by Paul back in June that I'd positively refused to get attached to Jesse. Sure, I'd let him kiss me and hold me and surprise me and present me with gifts…but I hadn't let him have my heart.

Or had I?

I looked up from the tranquil beverage straight at Jesse, who seemed to be at a loss as to what to do without his guitar, and by the looks of things was considering grasping the microphone stand with both hands and fell hard into his big brown eyes – as I had, I guess, right at the very beginning.

I let my arm drop under the table and feel for my crutches, and I slid my chair out to steady my legs. Meghan lowered her beer bottle from her lips and looked at me strangely. "Suze?" she asked, uncertainly. "What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done a while ago," I answered with a stupid smile, and leant onto my crutches before making my way towards the stage. Dirty Bunch were winding up for their big finish to "Chicago Nights" – which I knew by now was a first-set ender. I could make it to the stage just as they finished, and then I could greet Jesse backstage and tell him exactly how I felt.

"The nights…were long…but then I had…you." Willem finished with a sweep around the entire drumkit, ending with a short cymbal clash that was drowned out by the audience's enthusiastic clapping. I whooped along with several others – unable to clap, my hands otherwise occupied – and my heart suddenly realised I was only seconds away from possibly the biggest moment of my life. I reached the front of the stage, and smiled up at Jesse. He spoke into the microphone – about to announce their break, no doubt – scanning the crowd anxiously. He hadn't noticed me right below him yet.

"Thanks you guys, we were Dirty Bunch! That's the end of our first set, but we'll be back with our second in just a few minutes-" A girl cheered somewhere out in the crowd. "But we have big news to share with you guys! You wanna hear it?"

The response was immense – almost deafening me in one ear. They really wanted to hear the news.

"Alright then," Jesse replied, his gaze still distracted. His eyes were now skimming the nearer rows of the crowd, still not having found the desired face. "Well, you see, we had a meeting with a huge record label Prescott Productions – you guys heard of them?" Everybody had, I could tell by the screaming. "And they want us to meet with them again in Las Vegas – where we're staying indefinitely!" My heart plummeted. _What? _"And we're leaving…" He finally found me, and his stare was more intense than it had ever been. He gulped, not taking his eyes off me.

"Tomorrow."


	20. The Chase

**A/N Yah, I'm sorry. Its a day late, and I kept you all in suspense. I hope this chapter makes up for it! I'm almost finished now, so enjoy these last few chapters!**

**Mil**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Twenty**

I nearly dropped my clutches in shock. _Tomorrow? _As in, the day after today? Within the next 24 hours?

Jesse shot me an apologetic glance, which I ignored insolently, and began making my way back to my table – where I would make some kind of excuse to the girls, who, by the looks of their faces, knew how I was feeling right now anyway – and leave as quickly as I could.

But my plan wasn't that successful. I knew as soon as I turned around and heard a nasty guitar-strong twang behind me that I wasn't going back to my friends alone. Jesse had placed a hand on my shoulder just seconds after I had taken my first step, causing me to whirl around and glare at him.

"What, Jesse?" I asked, spitefully. "Because unless it involves you _not _leaving tomorrow for Las Vegas, I really don't want to hear it."

"Susannah." Jesse looked hurt. "What are you on about? Aren't you happy for me and the guys that we could possibly have a record deal?"

"Would you like me to define the word _indefinitely_?" I retorted, steadying myself with my crutches. "Because you obviously seem to have the wrong idea. It means 'until further notice', 'for the foreseeable future', '_ad infinitum'_…" I trailed off. "Are you getting the picture now, Jesse?"

He was quiet for ages. In fact, we went so long without exchanging words that I was considering hopping away on my crutches again, until his mouth finally opened again.

"You broke up with Paul," he said, slowly. "I heard from Jake. It must have been after the gas-stop, right?"

I softened. "Right."

"How did he take it?" I was surprised at this question – considering how our relationship had ended, with the rowing and the insults flying. I thought a bit before answering.

"O.K, I guess. I was a little less dramatic than the first time I broke up with him."

A small smile appeared on Jesse's face. "Yeah," he replied. "I could hear you yelling at him from inside the van. And then I watched you storm into the restaurant, and it just thrilled me that I was only seconds behind you. I'm not sure why. Maybe it was because you were so amazingly pretty- and it was just inevitable that I was going to talk to you."

I couldn't help smiling back. Amazingly pretty? He'd never said that about me before, not even when we were in a room alone – with no adoring fans of his, or ogling best friends of mine subtly spying on us. I moved closer to hug him, something tugging at my heartstrings at the same time.

"I really hope your meeting in Las Vegas goes well, Jesse," I said, against his chest. I could hear his heartbeat thumping quickly – quicker than usual. His skin was cool as I traced the shape of his hand with mine. "You deserve it."

"And I want everything to go just right for you in NoCal," he replied, into my hair. "Everything to be up to your high, high standards." I giggled, my whole body shaking against his.

"How's your hand?" I asked him.

"Healing. Your legs?"

"Healing," I answered. He squeezed my hand, and then released me, smiling down at me in the breath-taking way he always did. He was so handsome – the jutted edges of his tanned cheekbones, and his dark, narrow and inquisitive eyes, his long, skinny, musician's fingers, and his thin and muscular waist. I was going to miss all of it. All of him.

He was my last loose end – the last one to firmly cross off my list. On paper, that scenario should have tied him up completely – my list finally done. But instead I'd knotted it into a big mess that hung heavy in my heart and my stomach, making me feel sick and ready to barf at any second. Jake cleared his throat loudly behind us, and Jesse spun around to see my stepbrother gesture towards the microphone.

Jesse started towards the stage – and the hundreds of teenage girls yelled his name and whooped – and he got smaller and smaller as he stood before the crowd and I backed away towards the door.

Goodbye, Jesse. I'll miss you forever.

I love you.

* * *

"Seriously, Suze, I recommend it." Meghan shoved another tissue in my face. "Invest in some Kleenex – nice soft tissue that you can use for stuff other than cleaning your car from the inside."

"When did you last cry, exactly?" Fliss asked me worriedly, as I released yet another howl. "Like, second grade?"

"I cried the other day!" I shot back, furiously, dabbing at my eyes. "God. I haven't got a heart of stone, you know."

"I know, sweetie," said Cee-Cee, comfortingly, handing me another Kleenex. "She means over a boy. That was second grade though, right?"

I sniffed, and thought about it. "Bryce Martinson stole the purple crayon so that I couldn't give my doll a purple dress. It had to be orange. And I hated orange."

"There we go," Fliss said, satisfied. "Hey, wasn't second grade the stage you went through when you refused to give people arms when you drew them?"

I sniffled – a noise halfway between a laugh and a cry. "They were ugly," I explained. "Just sticking out, from a random place. I mean, please. What exactly do arms do anyway?"

"They hand you Kleenex," replied Alyssa, and she stuffed another two in my lap, removing the wadded up balls of soggy waste. "See? Useful, when your friend is majorly upset over some stupid jerk."

I saw Meghan draw a line across her throat from the corner of my eye. "That was Meghan," I disputed. "Meghan was upset over a jerk. I'm upset over Jesse."

Cee-Cee nodded. "Too completely different things," she agreed.

"Suze?" Meghan asked, tentatively. "I…um…hate to say I told you so – but didn't I say that you'd changed once you started dating Jesse?"

"You were rigid on the fact that you didn't love him," Cee-Cee chimed in. "You'd have our heads off every time we even suggested it."

"And look where that got you," Alyssa said. "Eating Ben and Jerry's on your sofa watching _The OC _re-runs. You were right – love stinks."

"_ALYSSA!"_

The remaining three of my friends all ganged up against her, as she managed to tear down the wall of self-confidence the rest of them had spent the last hour inflicting on me. Alyssa shrank back into one of the cushions, cradling the pot of ice-cream in her hands as she did so.

"What time is the train leaving?" Cee-Cee asked me softly. Fliss wrinkled her nose.

"Train?"

"Yeah." I nodded. "They couldn't afford plane tickets. Besides, Jesse's afraid of flying." I blew my nose in the latest tissue to be given to me. So far, we'd made it through three and a half boxes. "It's leaving at three o'clock." I glanced at the clock. It was two-thirty now. Jake had insisted on band rehearsal in the garden of the yellow house – seeing as the house itself was pretty much wrecked, and it had cost them a lot of money and explaining to the person they rented it from – and he had left about an hour ago. I thought now of Jesse sitting on the side, just singing, watching forlornly as the rest of the guys played their instruments.

"Isn't it better this way, though?" Alyssa asked, speaking for the first time in a while after her reprimand. "I mean, didn't you want any attachments in your life as you went off to college in the fall." I didn't answer – unsure of what I could say.

Meghan shot her a this-isn't-helping-thanks-Alyssa look. I knew that look well – back in the days when she had the occasional tiff with Kenny, she had given me that glance. Only it had been a this-isn't-helping-thanks-Suze look, instead, when I had tried to support her in their arguments.

I decided to change the subject. "How are things with Drew?" I asked. Fliss sat up a little straighter.

"Ah yes, toy-boy!" she cried, teasingly, and Meghan stuck her tongue out playfully.

"They're fine, thanks, Suze," she said. "And he's only two years younger than me."

"He's still sixteen," Alyssa pointed out.

"He's still underage," Fliss pointed out. Everyone looked at her. "I meant…to drink. Legally."

"So are we," argued Cee-Cee, and she lifted up her beer bottle, clanking it against the others. "Hear, hear."

We laughed, and the girls drained their alcohol whilst I took a small sip of my water. The no-alcohol-whilst-taking-medicinal-drugs thing was getting old. I wanted beer. Badly.

"So Jesse hasn't actually caught the train yet?" Alyssa asked, frowning. "So, say, if you wanted to stop him, you could?"

"Alyssa," Meghan said warningly.

"I'm just saying."

"Yeah," I replied. "I guess I could stop him if I really wanted to."

Cee-Cee cleared her throat. "Hey, Suze?" I looked at her. "Don't you want to stop him?"

I considered this. "Well, yeah, but-"

"But what?"

I pondered, taking another sip of my water carefully. I loved Jesse, but Jesse was leaving the state in a matter of minutes. He had a new interest now – one that didn't involve spending time with me. His music was what was important to him, and I wasn't about to take that away from him.

Only…

Only Jesse was important to me. Shouldn't that mean that nothing could take him away from _me_? It was like I was travelling in a very vicious circle. I couldn't think straight – my head was pounding vigorously, and the ferocious gossiping from Meghan, Fliss, Cee-Cee and Alyssa was drowning out any thoughts I did have. I dropped my glass of water to the floor, and it split into a million tiny crystal pieces – scattering everywhere. Silence, at last.

"I think," I said, slowly, and everyone awaited my words with baited breath. "That we have a train to catch."

"Yes!" hissed Meghan and she began a victory dance with Cee-Cee. Fliss pouted, evidently confused, and Alyssa began lighting a cigarette. A mixed reaction – a range of emotion.

Funny. That was just how I was feeling.

* * *

"Go, go, go!" ordered Meghan, and we filed out of my house one by one – the girls running excitedly onto my front lawn in fits of giggles, me hobbling along hurriedly behind them. Meghan whirled around, and called out to the others. "Guys? Are we forgetting we have a cripple here?"

"I am _not _a cripple," I growled, but this was drowned out as all four of my friends scooped me up and began carrying me like a queen, my crutches lying abandoned by my doorstep.

"There's a cab!" Fliss cried, as a yellow vehicle went zooming past my house. "Oh, correction. There was a cab."

"It's like, hopeless," Meghan said, changing her grip on my leg as I clung to Cee-Cee for dear life. "No cabs ever come down here."

"We'll just have to find one," Alyssa replied, fiercely.

"What's the time?" Cee-Cee asked, though her words were muffled as her mouth was blocked by my arm as I squeezed her head. Meghan was still having difficulties lifting me.

"Twenty…to…three…" Meg grunted, trying to check her watch. "Ow, Fliss, that was _my _foot!"

"Well when it was _my_ hair you pulled by accident earlier I didn't complain," Fliss added grumpily. "_Meghan_!"

"Guys!" I screamed. The bickering ceased, and everyone was quiet. Something off-white and large caught my eye, and my heart pounded against my ribcage. It was the van. They were leaving for the station – we could stop them now. "The van!" I pointed at it looming towards us, and all four of them started towards the road at different times, causing my legs to be stretched painful, and me to fall out of their grip and land on my ass, just as Dirty Bunch rocketed past us. I sighed, and stared up at the girls.

"Guys," I said. "We're screwed."

"No we're not," Cee-Cee decided slowly, and I gazed up at her bewilderedly. "Isn't that your dad's car pulling up on the drive?"

Indeed it was, in all of its second-hand glory, and it gave a cheerful _pfft_ as the engine turned off. My father opened the door, carrying a bouquet of flowers – a daily present now, and I was starting a collection of sunflowers in my room. We all yelled simultaneously, and he froze, throwing the flowers up into the air in shock.

"Jesus Christ, Suze, you gave me a hell of a shock," he said, clutching his chest. He picked up the bouquet, and made his way over to us. He handed me his gift, and I smiled. He helped me to my feet.

"I need a ride," I explained. I looked at Meghan's watch. "Pretty much now."

"O.K," he replied, slowly. "Where to?"

"The station," all five of us answered. I looked at him urgently. "Please?"

"Fine," he surrendered. "Get in the car." We all cheered, and I was helped to the car, before I realised I'd left something behind. "My crutches!"

"Got 'em," my father said, and he lifted them up, throwing them into the back with Cee-Cee, Alyssa, Meghan and Fliss, who were all squashed up. I had the passenger seat all to myself. I stretched out lazily, and the engine roared to life.

"Here we go!" Dad cried, and he reversed out of the driveway expertly, swinging in a full arc before straightening up and zooming down the road.

"Step on it!" I yelled, but it was too late. We had missed the green, and the light remained firmly red. We were stuck in the road leading out of Pine Crest Road, and my minutes of opportunity were just ticking away before me.

_**"Aw, man," Jake said, resting his head on the steering wheel. "Another red light. I swear, there's a little guy sitting on every traffic light, and when he sees me coming, its like – 'red light, Jake Ackerman's coming!'." **_

_**I laughed, and snuggled into Jesse. We were in the back of the Dirty Bunch van – a new experience for Jesse, as he always drove shotgun. He kissed the top of my head, and sighed.**_

_**"Jake," he replied. "Be patient."**_

_**"It's alright for you," Jake grumbled. "You have entertainment. I'm here in the front with no company, and crappy music on the radio. You know, go ahead. Make out with my sister. Knock yourself out."**_

_**"Stepsister," I corrected him. "And not even that yet."**_

_**"Whatever." He waved a hand impatiently.**_

_**Jesse grinned, and kissed me gently on the lips. I didn't mind red lights so much. It meant more Jesse-time. It surprised me how much I liked Jesse-time. I liked it a lot.**_

_**"You taste of…" I told him, in between kisses down his neck. "Strawberry jell-o and beer. Definitely beer."**_

_**"Well you taste of…" he answered, his hands dancing along my waistline. "Beer. And…oranges. You traitor."**_

_**"Well I'm sorry," I said, sitting up. "Forgive me if there is a limited choice of what to eat at your house. It was either oranges or a pot of mouldy cottage cheese." Jesse made a face. **_

_**"Go for the cottage cheese," he replied. "Much better."**_

_**"Shut up and kiss me," I ordered, and he willingly obliged.**_

"Yes!" I cried, and the light finally turned a brilliant green. My father sped across the road straight on, in the direction of Carmel train station. I looked at the clock on the dashboard. 2:47p.m. We wouldn't make it, we wouldn't, we wouldn't…

Meghan leaned forwards and ruffled my hair, giving it life. She handed me a lip-gloss from her handbag which I applied in the mirror, and pinched my cheeks to make them pinker. I looked as white as a ghost.

"Uh-oh…" Cee-Cee moaned, as sirens wailed behind us. My dad had been speeding – we knew that. We were just hoping he wouldn't get caught.

"Keep going," I urged him, as the train station sign came closer and closer. "Can you keep going until we get closer?"

"Of course, sweetheart," my dad replied, his eyes fixed on the road and his foot slammed down on the accelerator. Our surroundings whipped past us as blurs we were going so fast, but our destination was only feet away…

The car came to a grinding halt, and skidded into the sidewalk. My father had neatly parked right in front of the entrance, and the cops pulled in right behind him, two officers already out of the vehicle and marching towards us. I threw my passenger door open, and Meghan got out behind me, crutches in her hands and an arm ready to link through mine. "Let's go," she hissed, and she yanked me away from the car before I had chance to thank my father.

"You wait there, young ladies!" the officer on the left side of my father's car called after us, as we made our way towards the entrance of the station as fast as we could. "Young ladies! I'm placing you under arrest!"

Meghan pulled me up the steps, and we were in – the sounds of leaving and arriving trains loud, and the air was thick with steam. We headed straight for reception.

"Yes?" The receptionist was thin and young, her hair pulled tightly into a bun and her nose pointed. She pushed her glasses up with a sniff, and looked suspiciously at us.

"Can you tell me what platform the train leaving for Las Vegas at three o'clock is on?" I asked politely. She clicked away at her computer.

"Three, but I'm afraid you need to buy a ticket-"

"Thankyou!" We interrupted her and ran away – as fast as I could, anyway – towards Platform 3. The red train was already there, many family members standing on the platform waving goodbye to the passengers. I held a hand to my forehead, scanning the crowd for Jesse.

"Jesse!" I yelled, my voice cracking. "Jake! Jesse!"

A loud hiss sounded through the station, and Meghan gripped my arm worriedly. The engine began to chug, and my skin became hot and my pulse rapid. The train began to move slowly, and I chased after it, shuffling awkwardly along the muddy platform. "Jesse! _Jesse_!"

"It's too late," Meg said in my ear. "The train's gone, Suze. Stop."

I went to run again – despite how much my legs ached, but she pulled me back. I burst into tears on her shoulder, sobbing deeply at the loss I'd suffered. He was gone, truly gone, on his way to another state. _Indefinitely_.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Meg cried, patting my shoulder. "We'll just buy a ticket for the next train, O.K? I bet there's another one leaving soon." Hope flickered inside me for a brief second, before it was blown out again.

"I don't have any money," I replied, deflated.

I heard footsteps close behind me. I whirled around, to see a tall, tanned boy before me. He smiled.

"Anything I can help with?" said Paul.


	21. Prescott Productions

**A/N Yeah! An update! Woo! **

**The bad news is that I'm ill - or "sick" as you Americans refer to it, though I'm not actually chucking up - but the good news is that you have an update! The penultimate one though (cries).**

**I have loved writing this fic. Look out for the epilogue!**

**PS. There are quite a few different narratives in this chapter. The bold is Jesse writing, the italics is third person, and the normal font is Susannah's usual perspective. OK? R&R!**

* * *

**Daddy's Little Girl**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**Dear Susannah**

_**-**_

_**-**_

**_-_**

_Jesse scrunched up his third draft into a tight ball and threw it behind him, hitting Willem on the head. In response, Willem flipped his drumsticks over the seat, both of them landing on Jesse's table with a clatter. Jesse frowned._

_"Guys," Jake groaned, looking up at his bandmates from where he had been fiddling nervously with his guitar. "We're going to have to be _civilised_ when we get to Nevada. Do you think we could start now, maybe?" _

_"What are you doing, Jess?" Adam asked, over the headrest of his seat. "Writing another song?"_

_"Nah," Willem disputed. "He's writing a love letter to his _girlfriend_, Soo-oo-oo-oo-ooze…"_

_"Guys, shove it," Jake suggested, and the guys of Dirty Bunch laughed like hyenas. _

_"Yeah, guys," Dean added, from beside Jesse. "We all know Suze broke up with him ages ago…"_

**Dear Susannah…**

_Jesse gasped in frustration and discarded his fourth copy. He couldn't think straight, and was consumed with confusion. Susannah was miles and miles away – getting further away each second. Why was he on this train? Did he really care more about his music than he did about her?_

"You want to help me?" I asked, and Meghan and I looked from Paul to each other, and back again. "Are you forgetting how I broke up with you? Twice?"

Paul shrugged. "What do you need?"

I surrendered. "A train ticket," I told him. "For Las Vegas, and like, now."

Paul looked curious as he reached for his credit card. "Las Vegas," he repeated, examining the shiny plastic. "Interesting choice. Is it time to feed your gambling addiction, or something?"

"No," I replied shortly. Meghan rolled her eyes.

"Jesse's there," she added, and I scowled at her input. Paul looked amused.

"De Silva…" he said, slowly, like Jesse's name was some kind of dagger to be handled carefully. Then he made a clicking noise. "Huh, it's funny. I guess I always kind of knew your heart was never in our relationship the second time around."

I chewed my lip. "I'm sorry," I said, and I began to hop away, looking through the archway to see my father debate avidly with a police officer, and Alyssa and Fliss attempting to charm their way out of a speeding ticket. I heard Paul clear his throat. I turned around again.

"Don't you want your ticket?" Paul asked, and I smiled.

"Thanks," I replied, and Paul handed me his credit card.

"Knock yourself out," he offered, and I admired the gold shine. He pulled me into a hug – which proved a challenge considering I was trying to balance on crutches simultaneously. "Good luck, Suze."

"Thanks," I said again, a little unsure of the sudden change of mood in the exchange between Paul and I. "For everything."

"Hey, no worries," Paul said. "Can I ask you one question, though Suze?" Meghan watched us inquisitively. I narrowed my eyes.

"Shoot," I replied. "Anything."

"What's the big deal about Jesse De Silva?" Paul questioned. "I mean, Kelly was always swooning over him back in school – but he never even looked at her. What's so special about him?"

"I couldn't tell you what anyone else thinks of him," I answered, smiling as I acknowledged it out loud for the first time. "But I love him. I love him!"

Paul raised an eyebrow at my enthusiasm, but Meghan just grinned. "Go get him," she urged, and I leant on my crutches so that I could start towards the reception desk. My heart was hammering and my throat was dry with excitement.

I guess that's what love feels like.

_"How's it coming, Jess?" asked Willem, tossing his drumsticks up into the air and then catching them expertly. "Have you professed undying love yet?"_

_"Proposed marriage?" interjected Adam, snorting with laughter._

_"Contemplated adoption?" grunted Dean._

_"We're here," Jake announced abruptly, and Jesse jumped as the train came to an abrupt halt. "Amtrak-Union Plaza Station," he read aloud. "Hey, that's not far from the Las Vegas Strip!"_

_"Did someone say strip?" called Dean, and he mimed taking his T-shirt off, much to the delight of some of the female spectators. Jake scowled at the bad behaviour of his band._

_"You guys," he scolded. "We're meeting Ebony in an hour. Act like you've graduated, please, and are not still kindergarteners?"  
_

_"Aw, come on," Adam whined. "We're in Las freaking Vegas! Can't we enjoy ourselves?" _

_"Afterwards," Jake begged. The train came to a halt. "Come on, we gotta flag down a taxi yet." He turned to Jesse, who was still deep in thought over his letter. "Are you coming?"_

_"Yeah," Jesse replied, and he squeezed the paper up in his fist. "After all, we got a record contract to sign, right?"_

_"Right." Jake nodded. "Let's roll."_

"Aren't you going to buy me a ticket?" Meghan demanded, as we stood at the reception desk. "You think I'm going to let you go to Las Vegas by yourself?"

"Uh-huh," I retorted. "I can't buy _two _tickets with Paul's credit card, even if he is like, way rich."

"Fine." Meghan pouted. "Just down fall in front of any trains, alright?"

"Yes," I said, bored. "I'm going to be fine. I'm in love, now, remember? Everything has changed." Meghan nodded in agreement.

"You've certainly grown," she remarked.

_"Prescott Productions," Jesse read, from the sparkling sign above their heads. "Vocal and Instrumental Recording Studios. Is this the right place?"_

_"It has to be," Jake said, swinging the guitar case a little higher over his shoulder. "Do you see any other Prescott Productions around here?"  
_

_"Man, I can't believe you made us walk all the way here," moaned Adam, lifting up his leg and rubbing his ankle. "I mean, couldn't we have waited just a little while longer for a cab? We weren't going to be that late."_

_"Yes we were," replied Jake, checking his watch. "See, we're already five minutes late. Come on." Jesse stayed glued to the spot._

_"Jess?" Jake looked concerned. "Are you O.K?" Jesse looked down the road sadly._

_"Yeah," he said, after a while. "I just feel like something is missing."_

I was finally in Las Vegas – albeit I hadn't left the train station yet. O.K, so I hadn't really seen if the weather was different, and I hadn't spoken to anyone to see if their accents were any different, but I felt diverse – like another person. I was finally going after something I wanted, and it was like I'd stepped into an alternate dimension – or rather, hopped. My heart rate was quicker and my fingers were damper – I was a nervous wreck. What the hell was that recording studio called again?

_**We had a meeting with a huge record label Prescott Productions – you guys heard of them?" Everybody had, I could tell by the screaming. "And they want us to meet with them again in Las Vegas – where we're staying indefinitely!"**_

Right, Prescott Productions. Now all I had to do was flag down a cab.

It turns out Nevada isn't so different from California, after all – I mean, with the availability of cabs. In Carmel, you're lucky if you can even see a yellow cab whiz down the street. In Nevada, you couldn't see yellow cabs. You saw yellow blurs. As in, cabs with people in, hurrying to their destinations. As in, no cabs actually available for me to use.

It looked like I was going to have to walk.

_"I said, don't you give me the same old stuff - I want your polka dot banana and I want your love. Slice it, dice it, do it anyway that's nice, but I want it polka-dotted and I want your love." _

_The burns on Jesse's fingers tingled as he gripped the microphone stand just a little too hard. He finished with a perfect note – his nerves not quite swallowing him whole – and waited for Willem's finishing cymbal clash. Ebony stood before them, her arms crossed and a wide smile across her face – their self-professed "Number #1 Fan!" – though Jesse's eyes couldn't even skim over her. His mind was elsewhere. In a sea of greener than grass, the colour that penetrated his heart and made him shiver all over…_

_"Jesse, are you even listening to me? We have to go speak to the execs!" Jake looked impatient, and Jesse shook his head with a start. He placed the microphone back in its holder and followed his band mate. He had a feeling this was going to be a long meeting._

_"We're impressed – very impressed. Your lyrics are like nursery rhymes – they have a certain charm that we're sure will ring true for the likes of dedicated teenage boys and the ever-pleasing fan base of screaming teenage girls." Jesse pictured a horde of preteens dressed in pink, their blonde masses of hair identical to their neighbour, each and every one of them scrabbling for autographs…_

_Jesse shuddered, and received an odd look from Jake._

_"We'd like to introduce you to one of our producers – she's worked with some of the bigger names, and gotten them more than enough successes…" A petite and elegant woman strutted into the room at that precise moment – her dark glossy curls shining in the bright spotlights in the ceiling, and a dazzling ruby dipping low into her cleavage. Her bronzed legs shimmered, and a tight grey skirt revealed high above her kneecaps. A frilly white blouse finished her attire, and every single member of Dirty Bunch – bar Jesse – were transfixed. Most of the executives were drawn to her too. Ebony caught Jesse's gaze and rolled her eyes._

_Jake stood up a little too enthusiastically, his blonde hair bouncing on his shoulders as he reached for the woman's hand. She shook it gently, and took the seat allocated specifically for her – fortunately for Jake, beside him._

_"I'm Maria," she announced, and Adam, Willem and Dean muttered excitedly. "I'm hoping to be working with you in the near future."_

_The executives dismissed the band quite quickly after this, to discuss their thoughts. The boys rolled out of the board room like they were hyped up on Smarties, tongues still wagging after the arrival of Maria._

_"Dude." Jake approached Jesse instantly. "You have to get in with that, man."_

_"With what?" Jesse asked, his mind still full of Suze._

_"Were your eyes even open?" Willem's own eyes were wide. "There is a goddess in that board room, and you're our only hope."_

_"Me?" Jesse echoed._

_"Yes, you, dumbass," Adam said scornfully. "You're a gentleman, and you're hot." Everyone turned to look at him. "Or so Michelle says. That wasn't my personal opinion." The chatter resumed again._

_"Are you in?" Jake demanded. Jesse looked at all the pleading faces before._

_"Um…" he said, doubtful. "Well…"_

"Ouch, ouch, ouch," I groaned aloud, wincing every time my good foot hit the sidewalk. I was in serious agony, having walked for half an hour solidly on just one foot. Crutches were hard work about the house, let alone down the Las Vegas strip.

I stopped a guy who was walking past. "Excuse me," I whispered in pain. "Could you tell me where Prescott Productions Recording Studios is?" The heavily fake-tanned man pointed an orange thumb towards the next street over, and I felt like crying.

"You have _got _to be kidding me," I replied, in a less-than-grateful manner.

* * *

_"By the sounds of things…" Adam said, his ears pressed against the door. "They're finishing up. That gives you, like, five minutes to wash behind your ears or whatever. Scrub up. You're looking to score, remember? Come on Jess, do it for us."  
_

_Jesse scowled. "I am never – ever – doing anything else for you ever again."  
_

_"Atta boy," Jake cheered, and he gave Jesse an encouraging push just as the board room doors opened. Jesse came face to face with Maria, who watched him expectantly. _

_"Jess, yes?" she asked, and Jesse nodded feebly. "I hear you have a unique singing voice, or so I hear. Care to let me gather my own opinion?"  
_

_"Um…" Jesse replied – a common answer for him – and he looked around for help from his band. "Sure?" _

_"Great," Maria took Jesse by the hand, and led him into the board room – now empty of all the executives – and closed the oak doors carefully, pressing a finger to her lips. Jese sniffed the air. Vanilla - it must be Maria's perfume. It irritated his nose._

_"So," he said, a little uneasily. "Where do you want me-?"_

_He didn't get chance to finish, as Maria did something only explainable as "launching" herself onto Jesse, covering his mouth with her delicately painted one, stretching her hands around his neck and massaging his shoulders, and Jesse felt positively sick as he pulled away._

_"What are you doing?" he demanded, horrified, wiping his mouth. "You could be my producer!"_

_Maria smiled slyly. "I don't really go for my clients, but you're just so darn adorable…" She waggled a seductive finger at him. "So…"_

_"No," Jesse decided, staggering away from her and prising the doors open, only to find Dirty Bunch in a position that could only suggest they had been eavesdropping, and pushed his way past them, dispersing them._

_"What's wrong, Jessup?" Maria wailed, hurrying after him on her high, high heels._

_"It's Jesse!" he corrected her, running down the corridor, eager to find the exit. "And I'm taken!"_

Prescott Productions. The silver letters shone proudly down at me, and I exhaled heavily, relieved. My limbs felt like they were about to fall off, and I couldn't feel my wrists anymore. I could have just dropped my crutches and collapsed onto the cold, hard sidewalk right now, and sleep for a thousand years.

Or I could hobble up those steps to be in the same building as my true love. I decided to go with the slightly cheesier latter. After all, romantic heroines get nowhere when they are unconscious, do they?

I was halfway up those god-damn steps, and I could sense something right at the very top, looking down at me. I refused to look at it – though it was kind of un-missable from the corner of my eyes. It was large – tall, I mean – and long, and brown, with a dark curly mass on the top. My heart started hammering – though I warned it not to. It couldn't possibly be…

_"No…way…" Jesse breathed._

I looked up.

_It was. Jesse's hands became clammy the instant her eyes met his._

_Susannah._

"Jesse!" I yelled, and I dropped my crutches as he ran towards me, arms outstretched. He lifted me into the air, my appendages now feeling feather-light. He swung me round and round, his warm skin cool compared to my own fiery complexion. It was exhilarating – just like the climaxes of those old movies my mom and I used to watch in the single days, the type I always thought were a load of baloney. I never dreamed they would actually happen to me.

"Jesse," I whispered, as he put me down, but I clasped his wrists, not ready for him to release me entirely. "I need to tell you something."

"I'm listening," Jesse answered, his dark eyes more intense than I had ever seen them. "I'm listening, Susannah."

I took a deep breath, and dared myself to connect with the dark brown pools that were boring into me, looking past my flushed skin and my mussed hair. Twirling Jesse's fingers with my own, I tapped my foot impatiently, and shot my words out in one go, anxious for them to be out in the open.

"Iloveyou," I babbled. Jesse raised an eyebrow.

"Pardon?" he asked, though I knew he had understood.

I grinned, twisting my mouth into a flirtatious smile.

"I said..." I leaned forwards, my lips only millimetres away from his. "I love you."

Jesse returned my smile playfully, taking me in his arms and pulling my head so that it rested against his chest. "I'm sorry," he continued. "I didn't quite catch that. You what?" He put a hand to his ear. "Love me, or something?"

I pouted. "I guess," I said, casually, trying desperately not to laugh. "Maybe just a little bit. I wouldn't hold your breath or anything. It just might be a possibilty."

"Well then I guess it wouldn't make much of a difference if I told you I loved you too?" Jesse asked, and I giggled, looking up at his strong, handsome face. I shrugged.

"I don't know," I replied. "It might make a little bit of difference..." I took my hands from where they had been wrapped around his waist and placed them on his shoulders, and he gripped my waist to hold me steady. Barely containing my excitement, I got up on tip-toes and kissed him lightly on the lips - just lightly - and then jumped down again. Jesse wasn't having that.

"Oh no you don't," he said, and he pulled me into a passionate kiss - making me see lights in my eyes and feeling light-headed. I couldn't have counted the number of people who had gathered around us, watching curiously, and what was more - I didn't care. All that mattered to me at that instant was that I had Jesse, and Jesse had me. We were together - finally, where we belonged.

"You know," Jesse remarked, once we had finally broken apart. "It took you long enough."

"What do you mean?" I queried, tracing his jawline with my eyes over and over again - right from under his earlobes to the point of his chin, whilst drawing circles on his calloused palms.

"I knew you loved me from the beginning," he teased, wrapping locks of my hair around his fingers. "I was just waiting for you to realise it. Do you realise how many weeks it took you?"

"Let's see..." I counted on my fingers. "It was June when I first met you...and it's now...September?"

"That's a lot of agonizing, painful weeks," he said, placing a hand over his heart with a mournful look. "It nearly killed me, you know, _querida._" I opened my mouth to argue, and then changed what I had been planning to say.

"What was that?" I asked, picking up on my Spanish nickname. "What did you call me?"

"_Querida..." _He watched me cautiously.

"Am I ever going to find out what it means?" I begged, but he had already begun to scoop me up in his arms, and was kissing my collarbone.

"Perhaps..."

"Jesse!"

He rolled his eyes and stared at me. "What?" He seemed impatient.

"Why do you smell of vanilla?"


	22. Epilogue

**A/N Noooooo! The end is nigh! This is officially the end of the road for Daddy's Little Girl...sniff. I have loved writing this - my summer hols would have been a lot more boring with out this...LOL**

**Thanks to (spot your name): Kia (sorry!), Laura, Amanda, Katie (yeah!), Megan (of course!), Rina, Sabz, and Deema (woo!). Thanks for all your support of this fic - I love you (platonically). This one is for all of you. **

**Meg - Hope RENT was fantastic. You didn't text me!**

**

* * *

**

**Epilogue**

"That is _not _a shopping list," remarked Jesse. "That's, like… instructions to make a bomb."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm so sure," I replied. "Mini gherkins and brie. Some bomb."

Jesse unfolded a crumpled piece of paper from his back pocket and read aloud. "Cheetos, jell-o, Twinkies…" Jesse put a hand on the cart and stopped us in front of a ceiling-high stall. "Susannah, behold the glory that is Pringles."

"Um," I said, taking one regular flavour from the stall and placing it in the cart. "I'm already aware of the…um…'glory'." Jesse glanced at me with one raised eyebrow and collected another two tubes – Salt & Vinegar, and Chive& Onion. He placed them carefully next to the red tube, and popped the top, listening to the apparently satisfying sound.

"You can't just buy that kind of happiness, _querida_."

"Yeah, yeah, next aisle."

Jesse grumbled and pushed the cart down the next aisle, and collected several items from the shelves without clearing it with me first. The rule had been at the beginning that all items placed in the cart would be double-checked by me – me being the one paying. It seemed that gone out of the window, seeing as marshmallows, digestive biscuits and a box of Rice Krispies had magically appeared next to the Pringles.

"What happened to sticking to my list?" I asked, noticing that we had passed the seafood sticks twice and yet nothing resembling seafood was present in the cart. "My money, my list, right?"

"Er… no," Jesse replied, swiping the list from my hands and neatly tearing it in two. "Your mom's list, your money. There's a difference, _querida_."

"_Querida _schmerida," I muttered, and took the pieces of my mom's list and put them into my pocket. "Fine. What's on your list?"

"The Seven Wonders of the World…" Jesse answered dreamily, and I could have sworn I heard his stomach grumble. I sighed.

"And these would be…?"

Jesse smiled smugly, and lifted up his hand. He began counting with his fingers. "Stuff you can leave in the freezer for over 3 months, stuff you can't…" he began, and I was already bored. "Stuff you can't freeze at all, stuff you have to eat straight away-"

"Like McDonalds?" I offered, helpfully, and Jesse just stared at me pitifully.

"No," he said impatiently. I huffed, and he awaited the signal to continue.

"Go on then."

"Stuff that goes stale within 3 days and tastes like crap, stuff that goes stale within 3 days and yet doesn't taste like it has-" I had to control my gag reflexes after that. "…and, my personal favourite. Jell-o, of course."

"Because jell-o doesn't go stale in 3 days?" I asked, amusedly. Jesse looked at me knowingly.

"Because jell-o never lasts that long," he corrected me. I nodded my head deliberately, to display that I had understood. His lesson had been successful.

"So, what is this party for anyway?" I asked, as he plucked a six-pack of Red Bull from the shelves, which I promptly removed from the cart and placed it back where he'd got it from. Excited band geeks on Red Bull were never a good idea. "Is it to celebrate the fact that we survived our first semester apart?"

"No," Jesse replied shortly, with a happy smile on his face. I laughed at his childish excitement. "It's not that."

I pondered this. "Is it secret?" I tried, and he shook his head. "It _isn't _secret?"

"Secret is female problems," Jesse explained to enlighten me. "This is a _surprise_." Ah. The world of Jesse was forever growing. It was always interesting to see it expand before your very eyes.

"Oh." We'd reached the check-out. "O.K." I bent down to pick up the products, and spotted something new. I picked it up, and held it for Jesse to see. "What is this?"

"Barbecue flavour," Jesse announced proudly. "I'm expanding my horizons."

I shot him a look. "Yeah, you're really growing."

Jesse wrapped his arms around me and kissed my cheek. "Perhaps I should wrap a tube up in spangled pink paper and present it to you at Christmas. Then maybe you'd appreciate the brilliance of this miracle."

"Because pink spangled paper makes it all better," I said, dryly. Jesse nodded.

"All girls love pink spangled paper." He moved from my cheek, and his lips began exploring my jaw-line, and then my mouth. "And I love you…and you're a girl-"

"Mind-blowing observation, I know."

"-so I love pink spangled paper. It's all relative, really." Jesse looked pleased with himself once he had reached his conclusion, and pulled me tighter into his arms, kissing me deeply.

"Jesse," I said, pulling away. "People are staring. I think that could be my mom over there."

"Let them stare!" Jesse cried heroically, but I broke free. "Do you want me to start preaching about the wonders of Barbecue flavour again?"

"Yes," I replied, smiling, and I handed **LUANN **(yes, her again) two of the four tubes of Pringles. "Please elaborate on your profound belief."

"O.K." Jesse plucked the maroon tube from the cart and placed in front of me like that woman does on the shopping channel. "Observe. The shape, the colour…" He shook the tube, and a rattling of loose crumbs returned. "The fantastic sound when you shake the thing…" I took the tube from him and shook it to see for myself. I laughed at my own stupidity.

"It…it is pretty cool."

"I told you so." He grabbed the can from me and shook it again. "Shake it; shake it…uh oh…"

The can chose that precise second to explode – the plastic lid burst off the top, and the foil split – and Pringles shot everywhere. Jesse and I both watched the action unfold, before guiltily turning back to Luann.

"Run," she suggested.

* * *

"O.K…so the party's not at _my _house," I said, taking hold of Jesse's hand as we perused the sidewalk of Pine Crest Road. "It's not in Las Vegas though, right?" 

"Right," Jesse nodded. "It's not in Las Vegas." We reached the end of my driveway, where my car was sitting. "I've got something to show you. Can I drive?"

I surrendered my keys. "Just this once," I warned him.

I climbed into the passenger seat – a rare thing for me – and Jesse slid into the driver's seat, inserting the keys into the ignition and started the engine. "Close your eyes," he ordered, and I heeded, lowering my lids.

"Are you going to give me any clues?" I asked. "Like…is it bigger than a breadbox?"

Jesse laughed. "You could say that," he replied. From knowing the roads like the back of my hand, I could tell Jesse had turned out of Pine Crest Road by now. I was guessing he had turned left, but I could wrong.

"How did your semester at NoCal go?" he questioned, and I could tell he was deliberately distracting me. "I mean, we haven't really talked much since I got home. What was it you were studying again?"

"I told you," I replied, through ground teeth. "I'm undecided."

"Right, right." Jesse giggled to himself. "I remember now."

"Are we _ever _gonna get there?" I asked, impatient. "I'm getting kinda bored here with my eyes closed. Are you sure it's not in Las Vegas?"

"I'm sure," Jesse sighed. "It's just a few more minutes, _querida_."

I sat slumped in my chair for a few moments, occasionally eagerly shifting my weight in excitement, and then glancing up at Jesse and pretending I wasn't excited at all. It was strange, not knowing everything that was going on. I was usually one of the only people who _did _know what was going on.

Finally, I felt the car jerk to a halt, and I felt Jesse's warm hand on mine. "I think it was only fair to tell you," he said. "That I've come to my senses and decided to elope with Paul Slater." I burst out laughing.

"Well," I said, eyes still shut. "I'm glad you are upfront about your…erm….situation." Jesse laughed.

"I'm only kidding. You can open your eyes now, _querida_." I did so, and was pleasantly surprised to find that we were parked in front of the yellow house on Randall Way. Only…only it wasn't yellow anymore.

"It's blue!" I exclaimed. "Why…why is it blue?" I pushed the passenger door open and stood up so that I could see it in all of its forget-me-not splendour. The roof had been re-built, and the ivy had disappeared – no doubt burned to a crisp all those months ago. I felt Jesse's fingers lace with mine. An eerie chill ran through my body, as it always did when my skin came into contact with Jesse's. A brisk wind lifted my bangs from my face.

"The owners fancied a change," Jesse replied. "Or rather…we did." He unfurled my hand and placed a golden key into my hand. "We bought it the other day, after refurbishment had been completed."

"Wow…" I gave a low whistle. "How? I mean, how did you get the money?"

"You'll see," he answered cryptically, and he pulled me around the car and up the steps towards the front door. "Would you care to do the honours?" I took the key from the palm of my hand and inserted it into the matching lock ceremoniously. I went to push the door open, but Jesse rested a hand on top of mine.

"Are you ready?" he asked me, his brown eyes locked on mine.

"For what?"

"Everything," he responded. I nodded, and he placed a hand on my back, and gave me an encouraging push, following behind me. Jesse closed the door, and we were plunged into darkness. I gripped Jesse's hand with mine tightly.

"Jess, what's going on-?"

"SURPRISE!"

The lights flickered on, and suddenly I could see everyone – they were behind sofas, behind the TV and even under the new coffee table in the freshly-painted lounge. Meghan and Drew came running up to me, and I threw my arms around my best friend.

"This is the best surprise ever," I gushed, whirling around to face Jesse. "I haven't seen Meghan since September!" I pulled her into another hug, though of course Drew came too. They were joined at the hip.

"Oh, this isn't the surprise," Jesse said, and he pulled me by the hand out of Meghan and Drew's hug, and into the kitchen, where no less than a hundred cardboard boxes were stacked. He handed me a pair of scissors. "Go ahead," he said. "Open one up."

I tentatively dug the scissors into the first box, tearing the cardboard and sellotape and put my hand into the depths of the box. My fingers clasped around something cool and plastic. I pulled it out to see it was a CD.

_Raw_

_By Dirty Bunch_

I let out a terrific shriek and dived into Jesse's arms. He swung me around and around, and didn't stop until we were officially dizzy. "Oh my God," I whispered. "You got signed?"

"Uh-huh," Jesse nodded. "I guess my encounter with Maria did the trick." I narrowed my eyes.

"You're not officially off the hook, you know," I replied, but I nuzzled into his chest anyway, inhaling his Jesse smell – shower gel and the scent of grass all rolled into one. "This is amazing."

"Every single one of these boxes is packed with 200 CDs," Jesse said, gesturing to the full kitchen. "And Prescott Productions reckons we're gonna sell every one."

"I want an autograph," I demanded, presenting my CD to him. "A personal one – so that I can say to everyone– my boyfriend is a rock star."

Jesse laughed good-naturedly. "O.K then." He took a marker pen from a drawer and scribbled across the front. _**Querida**_**, I will always love you. Look at the back if you don't believe me. Jesse **_**xxx**_

I flipped the CD case over and read a list of the songs, recognising most of them. _Polka Dot Banana, Chicago Nights, Take me Back…_and_ Raw._ I looked up at Jesse. "That's going to be our first single," he said. "For you."

"Where's _Princess of the Moon_?" I asked, my fingers tracing the songlist for the missing song. "The song for Ebony?"

"We all reckoned it shouldn't be on there," Jesse explained. "After all, Ebony practically wrote that song herself. She saw the song that I wrote for you and demanded one for her – seeing as she was the one getting us in with Prescott Productions. We decided now we were officially signed, it could just disappear."

I pulled Jesse lower by his collar. "I love you," I whispered, and I pressed my cool lips to his, placing the forgotten CD on the kitchen counter behind us. "I love you so much."

"Perfect," Jesse mused. I tilted my head backwards.

"What?"

"That was just want I wanted to hear," he answered. "Can I…can I ask you a little question?"

"Sure," I replied, a little confused. "Anything." Jesse dropped my hands and darted towards the light switch, which he twisted so that the lights were dim. He then reached into one of the drawers and pulled out a small velvety box.

"Aw, Jesse," I muttered. Jesse blushed.

"It's not what you think," he said. "It's…it's not an engagement ring. It's more of a…" He snapped the box open. "Commitment ring." The jewellery was white-gold, and gleamed gloriously in the gentle electric light. I reached out to smooth the velvet around it.

"Jesse…" I whispered. "I…I love it." Jesse snapped the box shut, and I jumped. I giggled nervously.

"You love me more though, right?" he asked carefully. "I mean, you're not just taking the ring 'coz it's pretty?"

"You give me the most butt-ugly ring and I'd still take it," I replied. "Because it'd be from you." Jesse smiled sheepishly at me, and pulled me into a passionate, lights-in-your-eyes kiss.

"Good." He opened the box and slipped the ring onto my pinkie finger. "I love you."

"I love you too." I paused hesitantly. "What's this ring for, anyways? Are you going back to Las Vegas?"

"No," Jesse replied. "I'm going much, much further." My heart sank. "The record company thinks its best if the band tours for a while, to promote the album." He pulled another box from the drawer, with a matching ring, and he slipped it onto his finger. "So, we're committed. Right?"

"How long are you going to be gone?" I asked him, choosing not to immediately answer his question. "Like, are you going to be back for Valentine's Day?"

"I'm going to be right here," Jesse said, and he placed a hand over my heart. "No matter how long I'm away for." I tried to smile.

"So…" I said, slowly. And then I managed to smile, my eyes filling up. "Merry Christmas, boyfriend."

"Merry Christmas, girlfriend." Jesse laughed, his cheeks damp too. "From Carmel, to Las Vegas, to Washington D.C, to Austin…and then to you."

"To me," I repeated. "I'll be waiting."

**A/N So, there you have it. I'd appreciate reviews - I'm aiming for a total of 400, reckon we can make it? - and I am still writing Mediator stories! If you haven't already, check out Light My Candle - its my new love, LOL.**

**Millie**

**xxxx**

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